Painting You Gold
by Koyuki Aode
Summary: [INCOMPLETE] CrawxNagi FxS OCxN Schu gets Cupid's itch and relieves it by ruining Nagi's life with the worst, most intrusive implement possible: Humanity. Which is a good thing, except when it's not. A new assignment involving Nagi's past looks to crash.
1. 00 : Touch

_I've this silly thought in my head…_

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;) 

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

0 ~ Touch

*          *          *

"What happened?"

Crawford's words charged through the air like lead.  I swiveled my head to see him past two guards - standing sternly in the middle of our fray – then glanced at Farfarello.  The burst was more an order than a question, to which neither Farf or I wished to reply.  But Crawford's sudden appearance had frozen our aggressors, and, with the flight of our fists, we were free of the distraction.

"Have either of us ever mentioned-" I grabbed Farf's shoulder for balance and gave it a pat as I stepped through the bodies "-That your posture makes you look phall--"

"Schuldich," said Crawford, in solemn warning now.  His eyes followed my approach.  

"Well, I ran out of gel just this morning," I offered, "But I think I'll make it through the day just fine."

Slowly, Crawford's lips peeled apart to speak again; "Farfarello, where is he?"

"Yofun," Farf muttered as he absently rubbed his head.  The blood slicked his short spikes down.  "Grabbed him up."

I tilted my head.  /And he's not the first person to do it today, is he?/

Smirking disappointment spilled onto Crawford's expression before he turned to leave, flashing his open palm as a sign for us to follow.  I wondered if we should turn the lights off in the now-empty rooms as we passed through.  "You got here fast enough."

"Despite the difficulties _you've_ had-" Crawford grabbed my jacket sleeve before shooting a straggling security guard, "-Zurui is dead.  With one co-conspirator in the grave, Yofun wants a trade."

"But not as much as you do, right?"  Yofun appeared before us, holding onto a calm Nagi with a chokehold and a cocked gun to the head.  "Crawford-san, I believe I have something important of yours."

Crawford quirked an eyebrow.  "And what makes you think that?"

Yofun smiled.  "You know, in all the time you've worked for me, you never left him alone.  I wondered, what kind of man would keep a child in a world like ours?—"   At this, Nagi dissented.  Yofun tightened the chokehold, not satisfied until Nagi's fingers had begun to pry.

A soft breath escaped Crawford's lips.

"I'm sorry," Yofun went on, "Does this bother you?"  He loosened his lips into a smirk.

Farfarello hurled a knife at the wall behind Yofun, missing his arm by an inch.  Crawford put his arm out to stop the second blade, coolly asking, "What do you want?"

"I want to walk away from this.  With Zurui's share of the money.  Without having to look back."

"No good," Crawford said immediately.

"No good?"  Yofun maintained his smirk, an echo now of what glory faded from his eyes.

"No."  Crawford nudged his glasses up.  "I hope your hand feels better, by the way."

The "What?" that had formed on Yofun's lips was answered instantly as Farf's knife – in Nagi's telekinetic grasp – flew up at his wrist with enough force to slice his shooting hand clean off.  Blood exploded from the stump as Nagi slid from Yofun's hold.  Nagi rolled to face Yofun and watched the screaming hoodlum slam against the wall, the snap of his spine bringing silence back to the night.

"…Moron," Nagi cursed breathlessly.  He scrubbed at his face with his sleeve.

Crawford nudged Yofun's hand with his shoe, the struggle between irritation and satisfaction obvious in his expression.  "Nagi."  He dragged the toe of shoe to wipe the blood off.

Nagi examined his sleeve.  "Yes?"

"That was unnecessary."

Without moving to get up, Nagi turned.  "… You weren't going to kill him?"

"Be more careful next time," Crawford warned, already halfway down the hall.  "Then none of us will have to deal with these petty vendettas."

"I'm fine, by the way," Nagi muttered, jumping back to his feet.  Farf caught his shoulders as he slipped on some blood.

"I know." 

**tbc**

*          *          * 

**_A/N_**_:  [05.18.03] Due to life being an inconsiderate monkey, what finally ensues from hereon in shall henceforth be known as the recognizable and quite sustained, yet solidified and changed ReWrite.  I love every single one of you who read, even if you didn't review (thanks to you all), and the story's still basically the same up to chapter 8, but… After two years, my outlook, writing, and intentions have endured renovation with ever more to go.  Thanks again, anyway, I am truly a mortal among gods._


	2. 01 : Go

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;) 

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

1 ~ Go

*          *          *

"Nagi."  

No answer.  "Oi, kid!"  I pounded the door a little harder.  Finally the knob turned, and a rush of cold air greeted me as the door opened a crack.  

"Schuldich," mumbled Nagi from beneath his comforter (the thing practically buried him in his bed), "Is there some despicable reason why you're invading my sleep right now?"  A tuft of chocolate brown hair wiggled at me on his pillow as he turned over, peeking out from his bed's shadows.  

"Of course!" I said, barely holding down a yawn.  If it's goddamned four am, there'd better be a reason that my eyes are even _open_.  I hurried over to snatch his coverings away.

Nagi grit his teeth as I unveiled his shoulders.  "No-"  

"-Come on, just-" The blankets refused to move any further.

"-NO!"  He ripped the cloth from my hands.  "Why the hell are you here?"

"Fine."  I made a tired noise at the back of my throat and knelt down beside the bed.  His eyes caught a bit of light and that freaky midnight blue glared at me.  "Happy birthday.  You happy?"  In all of our (Crawford, Farfarello, and I) four years of knowing him, only I knew it was his birthday.  He refused to tell anyone, claiming he'd forgotten it.  But I found it after only a good hour of searching his memory.  I didn't know the year though - that was something his own.

"My birthday," Nagi murmured, sitting up, "Is that all?"

"It's your sixteenth," I continued.  "I've decided to give you something this time."  

"Well, what is it?" he said blankly.

I stood and pushed his shoulder to the headboard.  "It's a memory-"

"-A memory?" Nagi muttered.  

"A memory.  Only one, to begin with," I confirmed the statement.  "And a truth.  Something I think you deserve to know."  He fidgeted as I settled into a nearby chair.  "One of Crawford's memories actually.  Just sit back and close your eyes."  

"Fine," he squeezed out beneath a yawn.  He did what I told him to, leaning his head back.  I bit my lip, trying to decide which memory to give him.  This had to be something relatively tame.  The process of reliving Crawford's life would be stilted, but necessary for the both of them.  

"Why a memory?" Nagi asked, his eyes suddenly cracked open with suspicion.  

"You know, that's what I asked myself when it hit me.  I wasn't looking for anything to give you, but I had this thought, this idea, and it grew into enormous Nagi-sized problem."  Nagi looked at me like he would run in about three seconds if I didn't start making sense; you'd have thought I was trying to sell him an encyclopedia.  "Just… You need this.  -Close your eyes."

I'd found the perfect moment.  When Nagi was again settled comfortably, I began to sketch the image in his mind.  "Somewhere in that messed-up head of yours, a part of you doesn't trust Crawford."  And he didn't know how to, emotionless in self-preservation.

This change, I would give him, both him and Crawford, not because they deserved it, but because I knew no other way to fix the situation.  The mere possibility of Crawford becoming more than the asexual type A personality I'd met in his teens was too much to pass up.

I didn't realize then that the issue was soon to be overshadowed.

A coldness settled in my psyche; an echo unsure and frightened - holding too much treasure in a small, dirt-encrusted hand.  But it was too late for me.  I hadn't really decided this; I was merely the catalyst.  Nagi would feel emotions, even if semi-vicariously.  

I wasn't quite sure how to apply my voice to what I was about to reveal, but I sped right on; any further hesitation and nothing that I thought should happen would take shape.  "The man we know was Crawford, isn't the real Brad Crawford."  

Nagi gasped as he heard this, for I'd already plunged his consciousness into the memory.  And he could do nothing but watch with me, for a time, as the past played itself out.

*          *          *

**[memory]**

White.  

Very bright white.  

Footsteps and voices echoed through a clearing fog, until finally the memory focused on a panel of lights and the ceiling of a men's bathroom.  

With a sob in his throat, and a very distinct pain in his nose, young Crawford glanced to his side to see his own face in a mirror - stained, pitifully in his own five-year-old view, with a bloody nose and tears.  Squeezing his fingers over his palm, he realized he was still holding onto the remains of broken glasses.  

Another boy appeared in the mirror, poking at young Crawford's nose.  This was Casey, according to the memory, our Crawford's first best friend.  "Does it hurt?"  

Crawford nodded slowly, feeling his lower lip push outward in a pout.  

"It's still bleeding!" Casey yelled and gave a frantic hop.  "Brad, he's gonna die!"  Casey ran to another boy in the room, Brad, a fifteen-year-old to be recognized as Casey's brother.

Crawford dropped his broken frames and backed up against the sink counter.  "I'm gonna die?"  He opened his eyes wide, trying to imagine it.  Maybe his mom wouldn't get so angry about finding his new shirt stained.

"Casey, he's not going to die.  Don't scare him like that," Brad said.  After rummaging through a duffel bag on the floor and successfully finding a towel, he pulled his own glasses from his pants and nudged the frames easily onto his face.  "Here, let me look at it."  He knelt down to Crawford's eye level, blue eyes glittering with concern.  "Put your fingers here," he instructed, indicating the bridge of his nose with a gentle pinch, "And breathe through your mouth."  

"Here?" Crawford asked, wheezing as he opened his mouth wider to breathe.

"No," Brad mumbled, pushing Crawford's fingers up a bit.  "There.  A little harder."  Then he nudged Crawford's chin up and proceeded to wipe Crawford's face clean.  "You're going to be just fine..."

"It's a good thing I went with Brad for his punching today," Casey said, "Or we might not have saw you with those bullies."  

"It's boxing, Casey, not punching," Brad gently corrected his brother, balling up the towel in his hands.

"Well, I saved him anyway!..."

"True."  Brad nodded.  He peered over Crawford's still tilted head.  "What's your name again?" 

**[end]**

"…That's it?"

"Well," I started, "It may seem like nothing now, but that was a pivotal point in his life."  I frowned at Nagi.  His expression said that I _had_ sold him that encyclopedia.  "You didn't get anything from that?!"  Was I losing my touch?  

He shrugged, as if to apologize.  "The youngest one was our Crawford?"

"Yes," I affirmed.  "We see the memory through his eyes, his thoughts..."

"Wha–!"  Suddenly, Nagi's face contorted in pain.  He jerked forward, and his nose began to spill with blood.  His hands, now below his face, filled quickly with the liquid.  

"Whoa!" I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and rammed it under his nose.

"What the hell?!"  He grabbed the cloth, pushing it further into his face as he waved me away.  "What did you do to me?"

"I didn't–"  His glare cut me off.  "Well..."  I peered at his face.  "I might have made the memory too strong.  Your body might believe that it has Crawford's injury."

He huffed, still keeping his thin gaze on me.  "Thanks for the warning."

There was knock at the door.  "Nagi?" came Crawford's muffled voice.  "Is Schuldich in there?"

"Yeah!" Nagi called out.

"He can't know about this!" I whispered frantically.  As the door opened, I jumped up in front of Nagi, and he sank down into his bed.  

"Crawford!" I huffed.  "... Good… morning? ... !"  Ooh yeah, that was slick.

/What are you doing in here?/  Crawford blinked at me through his glasses, then craned his neck to look at Nagi.  "I just came to tell you, I'll be at a meeting until noon."  Through all this, Nagi pretended to sneeze, and was inching forward on the mattress.

"'Scuse me."  Nagi threw himself off the bed and pushed past Crawford, his head bent down over the handkerchief.  The door slammed a little louder than Nagi's usual. 

Crawford kept up his staring.  /Why are you smiling like that?/

I cursed through my teeth as I grinned and held my hands up, implying that I had no idea what he could be hinting at.  "... Want some coffee?"

**tbc**

*          *          *


	3. 02 : Naked Eye

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;) 

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

2 ~ Naked Eye

*          *          *

The relationship between the esteemed Bradley Crawford and Nagi Naoe was one so painfully superficial that I would rather have had Farfarello practice carving many-sided geometric shapes on me than witness them even _attempt_ to be intimate.  If that's the word to use.  

I'm not saying they didn't have moments.  All relationships have moments.  But their moments were... few and far between, and nightly interludes were the silent noncommittal type that gave me no pleasure to eavesdrop on, unless of course Crawford had the courtesy to entertain me with artificial dirty thoughts.  (A grunt here, a moan there.  Sometimes there were whimpers.  Really.  I never got to complain about them once in four years.)  

Even _I_ tried to share something with Farf whenever we were together, though he maintained the notion that my smoking habit was more dangerous than his personality.  But I digress.

The truth was that Crawford and Nagi were the first platonic monogamous sex partners I'd ever personally known.  They were trying too hard to be unemotional, to be cold and hard and fit into some archetype, and in doing so had conformed themselves into a senseless pattern that was doing nothing aside from easing Nagi's nightmares and satisfying Crawford's hunger for control.  It's too much effort to live that way.

Crawford's version of intimacy was based on the effect of Nagi's presence on his nerves.  Usually, it was a calming effect and Crawford was gentler with Nagi.  At incidents of youth and inexperience, he was colder.  Take for instance, the "Tot incident."  (Of which we rarely speak.)  It was then that Nagi proved himself to be the confused child, though he had often thrown the role back into fate's face.  

_"I'm in love."  _

Nagi had said it so flatly, so tiredly and yet so vigorously, that Farf and I immediately turned to each other and silently dared each other to keep a straight face before bursting out into laughter.  

"I'm serious," he insisted.  

At that, I found myself nearly eating the rug.  "Oh my— You can't be serious."  His square gaze threatened otherwise.  I sat up quickly.  /He _is_ serious./  

Farf stopped laughing too.

"Ugh, it's that Masafumi cheerleader.  What did Crawford say about this?"  

Nagi's eyes trailed along the rug pattern.  "He doesn't care."  From the way he was thinking, I could hardly tell if he'd assumed this or actually spoken to our leader about it.  

The only thing that tipped me off was the recent memory of Crawford telling him that he was allowed to make his own mistakes, as long as he remembered who he really was.  If Nagi were to learn anything from love, Crawford implied with his glasses flashing, it would be that love could never be a priority.  This would later be reinforced with a slap.  

"He's warned you.  You'd better listen," I said with sudden urgency.  Not that I cared too much.  I hadn't watched a show like Nagi's in a long while.  But he'd pushed away his hate and allowed himself to feel for Tot what Crawford would not dare to feel for Nagi.  

Nagi had wanted to stop fighting, to preserve his boyish desires.  But the conflict was something that never left us.

*          *          *

"How's the nose?"  I hefted a small ice pack in my hand as I watched Nagi from the doorframe.

Nagi stood above the sink, his blood still dripping into the shallow basin.  "Getting better."  He lifted his fingers from his nose and winced as I placed the ice on his face.  "Is this going to happen with all the memories?"  

"Not likely," I said, "There aren't many violent ones."

"I still don't understand what it has to do with me."  His eyes slipped over to me.  /Did someone die?  Am I supposed to eventually feel sympathy for him?/

"You're supposed to feel—" 

His body jerked forward and his hands clutched at the sink, letting the ice fall to the floor.  /Schu, don't even try.  I've already loved.  I hate it./  He closed his eyes, breathing unsteadily through his mouth.  Before I could respond, his eyes opened again carefully, sharp and alert.  /I'm fine like this.  Don't change it./

"No love?  No change?" I whispered softly.  "You're still with Crawford.  You don't want to leave."  He remained silent, his head bowed over the sink.  "Don't tell me it's for the sex, because it's not.  And you know full well that it still confuses you."  I stepped away and slipped the door closed, hoping the realization had baited him enough. 

He was curious.  I had at least achieved my first step.

Because real love makes you want to remember, not forget.

*          *          *

**[memory]**

Church on a weekday.  Why would people go to church during school?

Young Crawford looked around himself, at the sullen adults sitting in the pews.  His footsteps, along with his mother's beside him, echoed throughout the museum-like building.  Everything was sketched with age and the air weighed heavily with incense.  His mother pulled him along firmly but gently to the front, to a large wooden box that was half-open.  

The holy water on his forehead dripped slowly between his eyes.  Looking for reassurance, Crawford managed to glimpse his own teacher in black.  She looked away quickly, dabbing at her own eyes with a tissue.

Wouldn't he get into trouble? Crawford wondered.  Why was everyone crying?  It made him want to cry.  The church looked haunted, noises echoing, atmosphere too fragile.  He let himself sniffle.  

"Honey."  His mother let go of his hand and touched his back, pulling him forward to the box.  He hesitated, fearing he would be subjected to his mother's lipstick imprint in front of the crowd.  This was before he looked into her honest eyes. 

"Baby," she murmured, rubbing his back warmly, "I'm sorry..."

Crawford could barely see over the edge.  

It was Casey in the box.

Just laying there like he was sleeping.  Not moving.  Smiling in a way he never had before.

He looked too perfect.

As Crawford reached out to touch his friend, his mother grabbed his hand.  "No!  Honey—you.. Don't..."  Her voice had the same tone it did two years before, when he could barely remember seeing his own father in such a box.

But his father was gone.  Never to come back.  Only glimpsed in dreams.

Suddenly it felt as if the church had no floor.  The gap between Crawford and Casey was steeper than the few inches between their bodies.

The tears hit Crawford before the realization did.  "Casey!  CASEY!  WAKE UP!!" he screamed, caring not that everyone could hear him, could see his tears.  The only person who mattered couldn't hear him and would never see his tears.  Casey would never receive his late birthday present.

Crawford's mother wrapped herself around him, pulling him away from the casket.  "CASEY!" he wailed miserably.  

Casey had just turned seven years old... Only...

With a cry, Crawford broke away from his mother and ran.  Before he even reached the pews a strong pair of arms caught him and held him tightly.

"Hey, come on."  It was Brad's voice in his ear, Brad's tears falling onto his neck as he struggled.  Crawford stopped fighting and listened.  "Kiddo, you need to calm down.  Casey doesn't want you to be sad..."

"He's not coming back," whimpered Crawford, burying his face into Brad's shoulder.  "He's my best friend!!.. He's not coming back..."  He pressed his face into the stiff fabric of Brad's suit, trying his best to lose himself in Brad's arms.  These arms were the closest he would get to Casey.  In these arms, he felt safer.  "'...Not… Fair!"

"Sh," Brad whispered shakily, his own voice wavering, "I know.  Casey.  Casey's my b-"  He paused to breathe.  "He's my best friend too..."

"He's supposed to—"  Be in school with Crawford.  Grow up with him.  Protect him from the bullies.  Be his friend.  His brother.

"I know... But I'm still here."  Brad held onto Crawford as tightly as the six-year-old clung to him.  They cried together, listening to his shaky whispers.  "It's going to be ok."

**[end]**

"How was that one?"  Feeling Nagi's eyes on me, I stopped to look at him from the fridge, which I'd taken upon myself to clean out, and urged him with a nod.  He'd been staring for about five minutes from his seat on the counter.  "Well, come on-" I tossed a large container of some brown mush from a lower shelf into the sink, "-Don't just stare at me like that.  It's creepy."

"Brad died too, didn't he?" Nagi said quickly, unsteadily regaining his voice as he pushed himself off the counter.

"After about five years of taking care of Crawford... Yes."  I plowed my hand through a drawer of bagged vegetables.  "Is it that obvious?"

"How else could Crawford take his name?" Nagi reasoned.  "But didn't Brad have family who cared?  Or... Someone who would notice?"

"His parents.  They died earlier, without next of kin," I explained, "The brothers were alone when Crawford and his family met them."  With my face to the fridge, I let a smirk slip.  Finally, after two days' worth of memories, Nagi seemed to be taking interest.  All it had taken to grab him was a death.

"All they had was each other..." Nagi bottom-lined, his face softening.  I regretted that no one was around to see my breakthrough.  "That's..."

"Sad?" I finished for him.  When he nodded once in agreement, I held up a bag of mysterious green clumps that had caught my eye.  "I agree.  Now tell me - what the hell is this?"

He squinted at the bag, twisting his mouth.  "I think it's supposed to be cheese.  Is it fuzzy?"

"I'll spare myself the sensation," I muttered, chucking the bag in Nagi's direction.  "Toss it."  He obliged and, with a quick movement of his hand, it was disposed of.  "Any emotional excess from the memories?"

"I don't know."

I let the fridge shut itself.  "Understandable.  You haven't been to school for the past two weeks have you?"

Nagi shook his head slowly.  

"Schu... why?"  Why me?  Why his memories?  Why now?  Nagi's silent questions flickered in his eyes. 

I leaned down and pressed my nose to his.  "Though you won't believe it, Crawford _would_ get jealous."

"What?  What are you—"

I placed my hands on his shoulders.  "Watch!—" Without a second thought I pulled him in for a kiss.

Nagi had been surprised when I pulled him forward, and jerked in even more shock as Crawford entered the kitchen.  I held on to him tight though, until the only way he managed to separate our bodies was to send us both staggering from each other.  My back hit the fridge while he flew into Crawford, who caught and steadied him with stiff movements.

/Taste-testing./  I smirked back from behind my sleeve.

Crawford's dry voice, when he finally chose to speak, was directed to the both of us.  "Would you like me to wait for a better time so that you may continue?"  His eyes seemed to burn through my skull.

"We weren't doing anything!"  Nagi spat out, flashing a glare in my direction.  /MORON!/

"Good," grunted Crawford, "We have an assignment.  Nagi, go and bring—"  Before the request had fully formed, Nagi had hurled the door open and was stalking out.  

/He's jealous now!/  I sang to Nagi.  /He wants to talk to me alone!/

Crawford wasted no time trying to go on with business.  "We're going to retrieve some information and gain the trust of a future investment," he said, maintaining eye contact with his printouts.

"Don't you mean investor?"  I busied myself with rolling my sleeves up and attacking the containers in the sink.

"Investment."  A chair scraped against the floor as he took a seat.  "We may go back to being bodyguards."

"If he owns golf clubs, I'm quitting."

My comment laid both our voices to silence.  After a long while (and my cleaning out four huge containers) Crawford finally decided to take advantage of Nagi's absence; "So, what _were_ you doing in his room at four am?"

"Nothing much."  I turned to face him, tightening the faucet to a low flow.  "Why, you jealous?"

"I thought you had convinced him to go to school.  He's supposed to graduate this year - early.  It'd be nice if the administrators wouldn't expel him before the end of this term."  Crawford locked onto my gaze after saying that, and for a moment we stared competitively.  Sensing no follow-ups on his part, I turned around again and dipped my hands into the sink water.  

Crawford finally sighed as two sets of footsteps pounded off the last of the stairs and into the hallway.  "Go ahead and say it," he mumbled.

I smiled triumphantly into a pot.  "... You're such a bad liar."

**tbc**

*          *          *


	4. 03 : Shifting

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;) 

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

3 ~ Shifting

*          *          *

Our potential charge ended up being a business CEO holed up in a huge office building somewhere in the next city.

It had only been four days since Nagi's birthday when we were off to see Mr. Etoki Shinzui, but suffering a train ride full of anonymous glances and inadvertent puppy faces (mostly Nagi's) pushed me to take action in Crawford's regard.  

So, I found myself pleading on behalf of love and affection - bearing nothing short of a blind flight plan - as we emerged from the depths of the underground into the city.  _What was there to do?_ Crawford had countered, indicating that two murderers, much less a child twelve years his junior and himself, had no business getting into a _serious_ relationship.  

My ass.  

/—Look, I'm just saying that you could… Give him more to go on.  If you really do like him, that is./  I could hardly keep from rolling my eyes as I searched for more cheesy lines in my memory and prepared for rebuttal.

Crawford quirked an eyebrow as he walked.  /Do I like him or not?  And how is this important to you?/

The way he'd meant the question to sound irritated me.  /Maybe Nagi's the one who deserves to know it./

/He already does./

/Yeah, the sex thing.  Am I the only one who realizes the sex thing is NOT going to work?!  Just because you—/

"Schuldich," Crawford said sharply, stopping for a moment and turning to me, "Don't have an aneurysm - We have other issues to deal with."  His hand flew up to his temple then, and he rubbed it lightly.  

Farf and Nagi both stopped with Crawford, each adding something to the sudden eruption of verbal communication.  The former wondered aloud what we were talking about, while the latter asked Crawford if he was all right; to which Crawford gave a grunt and gestured for us all to continue walking.

Unwillingly, I smirked.  I could've sworn that someone was tugging at my mouth with a fishhook.  /You've thought about this before./

Crawford squinted at me, looking as if we were at a poker game and my face had slipped.  He rushed to end the discussion as we approached the building.  /-We can talk about this later, if there _is_ anything else to talk about.  Right now, I frankly don't care, and Nagi has the emotional capacity of a fish./

Crawford gave the door an extra shove and, though his gaze suspicious, kept his mind and mouth closed.

I couldn't help but whistle when I pushed through the door.  My sunglasses slipped down my nose and I pushed the frames back up into my hair.  Everything gleamed.   Golden lights were dimmed to ease the atmosphere; present also was a pleasant tinkling of music.  And the air was barely scented with the trace of an amiable gas - most likely to improve the stamina of the employees.  Compared to Takatori's generous box, this was a marble showcase.  Naturally, Shinzui was compensating for something.

"I bet you anything.  He's gay," Farf muttered, driving his heel into the plush carpeted floor.

"He's got the taste for it," I agreed, staring at several paintings.  "Poor bastard.  He's only engaged to that girl for the merger."  Well, "poor" wasn't the best word to use for a man on the verge of controlling the majority of electronic media in Japan.  I looked to Crawford for more commentary and noticed his silence was lacking a sort of... essence.  A small blue-eyed one that should've been gravitating around his general area.  "Is it the lights or are we missing someone?" I said.  

"Kid's gone," Farf muttered.

That's the trouble with quiet people.  You _never_ know if they're _really_ there or if they've wandered off.  "We should keep a bell on him."

Crawford looked up from his precious paperwork, his gaze stopping at twin elevators.  "Stay here and wait for him," he directed me under his breath, "We'll be on the seventh floor."  He gestured to Farf, who shrugged and followed him.  

I rubbed my hands together to ease a random itch and dropped myself into a voluminous chair.  This had thrown me off.  Normally, Crawford would have asked me to accompany him, instead of Farf - especially at an initial meeting.  It was a tactical approach, quite useful if you considered what nastiness lurked behind every dishonest man who'd employed us.

I felt my hand close in on the small box inside my jacket; I already had my lighter going in the other.

Though I shook my head at how pathetic I was (to have developed the habit of smoking every time I was seriously deliberating – my only flaw), I slipped a cigarette between my lips and lit up with ease.  My lighter hadn't settled back into its cloth shelter before I heard the familiar staccato of gunshots.  

Back on my feet, I noticed that no one else seemed to have heard the sounds; it was nothing short of casual and would not affect the office - apparently assured (by memory) by Shinzui himself.  

A guy who wasn't afraid to open his neighboring alley up to executions.  What winning personality could this one have?

I let my gun sit cold, but still made for the door since Nagi hadn't yet emerged.  A subtle rain had begun outside, which I managed to avoid, for just as I reached the edge of the door's canopy I caught sight of Nagi's white uniform and the irritated gun-wielding guard who urged him along.  The rain picked up as they neared the door, but it wasn't enough to obscure the splatters of blood on Nagi's shirt.  

The realization that the guard wasn't there to harm Nagi took a moment to settle.  I waved my cig at them.  /You hurt?/  I scanned Nagi's body for injuries.

/No./  Nagi answered quickly.  I exhaled a small amount of relief; if he was injured Crawford would have a violent fit on me.

The guard glanced at my white clothes and back to Nagi.  "This one's with you?" he asked with a sharp gesture of his weapon.  After I nodded, he lowered the gun and continued, "Next time, bring a leash.  I had to knock Ishida off because of him.  Not that I mind.  But that's one less acquaintance of Shinzui's, and two bodies to clean up today."

"Yeah."  I nodded again and placed a hand on Nagi's back as I led him back inside and directed him to the elevators.  /Whose blood?/

Nagi pushed my hand away and quickened his stride, ignoring even the quite misplaced decor of the building as he pushed inward.  /Forget it./  

/Why?/

The elevator doors slid open a moment before we reached them.  As I entered behind Nagi, I slipped my hand in over the inner button panel and pressed the buttons for the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh floors.

"What the hell?!" Nagi burst out just as the doors slid closed.

I eased out a smoky sigh and took my place next to him.  "Giving us time."  

Nagi huffed, but refused to respond.

Now, I'm a patient man when it really matters (and it has mattered a few precious times in my life), but after enduring the before and after jolts and watching the doors open, pause, and close for the first three floors, the sight of Nagi pouting was starting to grate on my nerves.  

"All right," I said as I lifted my cig in Nagi's direction, "I'm going to give you a chance - then I'm just going to get the answer myself; because, and I realize requires no repetition, not talking to me isn't going to keep the matter hidden.  Out.  With.  It."  

My curiosity aside, I'd done away with the habit of reading minds at every turn once I learned to control my telepathy; living with my teammates and learning what I did of them had instilled a respect for certain privacies that proved to benefit my sanity.  

Nagi looked at me with a solemn tint in his eyes.  "Fine."  His arms uncrossed and his hands relaxed at his sides.

"Good," I acknowledged his decision happily.  "And stop pouting, it's disturbing."

"I thought pouting made people look cute."  He blinked, attempting to straighten his lips.

"It does - that's what's so disturbing."  I offered a quick smile as I tipped some ash onto the floor, making sure to spread it over as large an area as possible.  "Now, what happened?"

The car shook and stopped again, and opened to the fifth floor.  /I couldn't kill him./  

I waited for Nagi to continue, but he grew more disturbed as he remembered the event.  /The guy, Ishida?/ I tried.  He jerked his head forward.  /Why did you feel had to?/

After taking a shaky breath, he explained.  /I watched him kill this other guy.  And Ishida must've heard me as I left or something, but-/  The doors closed and the car quaked before moving again.  "He was on me so fast, and had the gun... I should've snapped him in two, broken his neck... squeezed his heart or something... But- I couldn't."  

"The guard stopped you?"

/No./  Nagi watched the doors distantly, squeezing his hands tightly.  /I just couldn't.  Watching the first guy die did something to me... and then, I couldn't even snap one of the guy's bones./

"Hm."  I puffed my cheeks out as I leaned against the wall.  Crawford's memories were more potent than I thought.  But the look on Nagi's face as he hung his head was a product of the emotions I'd bestowed on him - and Crawford wouldn't appreciate Nagi turning into a crybaby.  Even worse, Schwarz wouldn't be able to function properly if Nagi'd developed—

"Schu," Nagi's voice whispered, "What's wrong with me?"

"Conscience," I said.  The elevator did its business again, opening for the sixth floor.  /Ironically, Crawford's given you a conscience./

Angry eyes met me when I turned to face him.  /You didn't say anything about this./

/I didn't think it would happen./  Which has the half-truth.  I had the slight notion that it might happen, and had obviously been rooting for the emotional imprinting.  It was the only reason I'd begun with Crawford's earlier memories.

Nagi struggled with a hybrid reaction.  "Impossible."  He shook his head as the doors slipped closed, and we soared like turtles to the seventh floor.  "I'm worthless if I can't even hurt a stranger..."  His gaze turned from anger to sorrow, but he maintained his tone.  "Why?  Answer me this time."

"Because you both need it."

"Why would you even care?"  He shrugged as if he couldn't think of anything else to say.  "Why _did_ you start this whole thing?" his voice shifted with rising curiosity.  "You never even recognized my birthday before."

Well, I certainly wasn't doing it just to see them both happy; but I would enjoy seeing the charade end.

"Hey."  My silence had allowed Nagi to mull over another issue: "Are we going to tell Crawford?"

"Not yet." I assured him, "You're still acting pretty normal for you.  Just don't wander off while you're busy being your quiet self."

"Mm," Nagi nodded pensively, absorbing my statement with the greatest consideration.  Then, as his gaze fell back to the floor, he spoke again: "Schu."

"What?" I yawned my response; all of this being friendly and accommodating had begun to tire me.

"I've been wondering- It's sort of been bothering me.  I can't stop thinking about it, actually..."

"Nagi," I grabbed his shoulder.  He stopped and looked up.  "Am I going to have to tape your mouth shut?"

"No!" Nagi pouted again, then remembered himself.  He eased his back onto the elevator wall, turning to face me completely.  "It's just that-" his head dipped with hesitance, "-That one memory of his friend's funeral."

After slipping my cig back between my lips, I crossed my arms.  "Casey's funeral?-" 

"Yeah."

"-What of it?"

"When Brad caught him.  I keep thinking that...Maybe... It might have been possible that..."  After hearing my grimace, Nagi saw what his babbling was doing to me and stopped.  "Okay, I'll just say it.  Was that when they fell in love?"

"Love?" I echoed.  It was too early for him to understand.  But he'd already figured it out.

"I just assumed that if Crawford was so close to him... And the feeling I get from the memory - and other memories!  Like when Brad tried to teach him how to box, and the one at the beach.  And how they spent so much time together... They didn't love each other?"  He stopped finally, seeking confirmation in my face.  He looked like a child who'd just learned that Santa Clause might not be real.

To keep myself from stumbling over my words, I shook my head and chuckled.  "Well Prodigy, you're right.  They did.  Not officially - not like that, but Crawford did have that sort of feeling."

"So that moment - was that when they fell in love?" Nagi repeated eagerly.

"No," I said, pulling the cig from my lips and toying with its doomed embers.  "They couldn't have fallen in love then, because Brad would have been branded a pedophile and Crawford would still be going to therapy right now.  You've got to bear in mind that Brad was still a teenager and Crawford would have been too young to comprehend it then.  But-" Nagi had opened his mouth to say something, "-And this is a very important but, if they had both made it and were still alive today sans Estet, they probably would have ended up together.  At least for a while."

Nagi waited patiently after I finished, gnawing on his lower lip.

Finally, I shrugged and let him have his answer.  "They didn't fall in love then.  Though, you know, it's difficult to find someone whose presence and absence can change you that way."

Nagi nodded.  It was then that I felt proud of him.  Though he'd lost himself to a conscience, he'd managed to identify the love in the memories without my identifying them.  And, judging from the way his disposition seemed to warm, he just might have identified his own version of the feeling.

"How did Brad die?"  

The car danced its final dance and the doors opened at the very moment I opened my mouth to respond.  /I'll tell you about it later./

**tbc**

*          *          *


	5. 04 : Flip

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;) 

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

4 ~ Flip

*          *          *

The organization of the seventh floor completely dispersed all expectations I'd had concerning Shinzui's tastes.  It was safe to say that Nagi and I had managed to lose ourselves in the architectural maze after wandering for a good ten minutes.

"And to the right, ladies and gentlemen, is... another hallway full of doors."  After stubbing my second cig out in a conveniently located ashtray at the corner, I stopped walking and threw my hands up.  "That's it.  We're going to die here...."

"Maybe we should have waited by the elevator," Nagi said, scratching his head.  "They might have come to get us."

"Do you happen to remember the way back?"  With a raised eyebrow, I gestured to the hallway we'd just emerged from and another two we had to choose from, which bore a resemblance to the other eight hallways we'd explored.  If a giant mouse nibbling on a hunk of cheese appeared at the next turn, I would not have been surprised.

Nagi bit his lip and lifted both arms, waving his hands around while trying to draw an invisible map.  After a few minutes, he gave up.  "… He didn't say which room?" he asked for the tenth time.

"Not that it would matter.  There aren't any room numbers."  I pounded my fist on the wall again.  "And if we don't find them soon, I'm going to pull one hell of a mental Marco Polo."

Nagi's eyes widened as I nodded.  He let a breath out and shook his head.  "He'll kill you if you do it!"

"Oh yes, he will," I nodded, my own smirk forming.  "And it's going to be very embarrassing.  Which is why his clairvoyance should be picking it up very—"

"Nagi-kun!"

Nagi froze.  I cringed.

That voice...

His eyes widened.  Mine shut.

Noooo....

"T-Tot?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," I muttered.  Following his gaze, I found, indeed, that it was the aqua terror a few doors away.  Her hair was violent with blue curls and her attire consisted of a simple gray number.

/She's supposed to be dead!/  I gave Nagi a mental shove.

/Well, so are we!/  He shoved me back with his power, and I tumbled into the wall with a grunt.  He cringed.  /Sorry!... Didn't mean that./

Funny, things like that always seemed to happen around Tot.

Having Tot reborn into my world of existence was just enough to make me forget the pain ebbing in my head; but it also provoked a stronger sensation, one of absolute dread.  I rubbed my face with my hands and slid down the wall.  "I should have checked for her corpse…"

"Well, if you don't want me to help you, meanie, you can just say so!" Tot said with her own pout.

Nagi tugged at me with his mind.  /Schu, shut up and listen to her.  She's here to help.  She's a person too./

I had heard that enough times.  /Blah blah blah... Don't try that lecture on me again./  The last thing I wanted was to relive the entire Masafumi ordeal.  I stood up and crossed my arms, offering her only: "Fine."

One of Tot's thin blue eyebrows twitched.

I countered with the same expression.  "If you're holding your breath for me to apologize, you're going to fall dead before--"

"Schu!" Nagi squeezed out angrily, glaring back at me.  I shook my head.  Exasperation ground from his throat as he stepped closer to Tot and looked her in the eye.  "Tot," he said softly "You came for us?"  The girl nodded and he continued slowly.  "Do you know where we're going?"

"Mm hm!"  Tot held up her arm, pointing through the building.  "My boss sent me here to find you!  Shinzui-tousan wants to meet you.  He's so excited!  I didn't know it was going to be you, Nagi-kun!  I mean, after that fight we had and we broke up..."  

She babbled for a few more minutes, but by then Nagi and I were sharing the same suspicious look.  /Is she kidding?  We didn't have a fight.  We _died_./

To which I replied: /... Are you sure she can remember the entire way back?/

Nagi ignored the comment and gave me a significant Look.  A Look that people get when they want me to do them a Favor.  A particular Favor that only I can do.  /What does she remember?/

/No!/  I stopped walking and lifted my hands up, washing myself of any moral responsibility.  /I am not going to let that **thing** touch _my_ mind.../

"Nagi-kuuuun!  We have to go or Shinzui-tousan's gonna get mad!"  

/Bunnies.  Everywhere!/

As Tot hauled Nagi away, I made a quick run back to pick at my cig, hoping to find it had a few embers left.  I certainly wasn't going to waste an entire stick on _her_.  

/Schu!/

I followed them, smokeless, still grumbling.   Tot babbled on something fierce about a new boyfriend, a "genki" boy who liked to smile, a bit older – (_"Is he blond?!"_) – not nearly as cute as dear little Nagi-kun.  

Nagi continued to beg me for the telepathic trick.  And I continued to refuse.  To my relief, Shinzui's office actually wasn't too far away - the only door with a number.  With Tot gone inside the room to sign off with Shinzui, Nagi implored me again to search her mind.

"Why should I?!" I hissed at him, holding my palms open and waiting for a reason to fall into them.  

/You owe me, for this stupid conscience./  Nagi's eyes frosted as he looked back up at me.  /There's no way she could forget what we went through./

"Calm down," I said.  I was already feeling the itch for a lighter.  /It happened to the Weiß kid, and it certainly could have happened to her - I'm not even bringing up Neu.../  

The door opened, and Tot popped back out.  Her smile melted into a frown as her mind gave birth to intelligence and she noticed the stains on Nagi's clothes.  "Nagi-kun.. Are you…?"

Well, that only took her about five minutes to notice.  "It's nothing."  Nagi forced a smile.  "I'm fine."  This seemed to satisfy Tot, though she still had an odd expression on her face as she walked away.

"Go ahead," Nagi whispered to me.

I didn't have much time to observe the vast shelves that lined Shinzui's walls, though I would have liked to; just as I stepped into his office his voice jumped into my system like an electric bolt - all he'd done was greet me.  With some suspicion I returned the salutation and Crawford introduced us formally, after finally rising from his seat before Shinzui's desk.

I braced myself as Shinzui attempted to say my name.  And almost stuttered in shock when he got it right.  Shinzui patted my arm, saying with a chuckle, "I've had some practice.  Would you like something to drink?"  He indicated the bar in the corner with a nod.  

"I'll help myself," I replied, already striding towards the line of bottles on the counter.  I didn't usually, but after all that had happened, my body was screaming for the poison.  A hand stopped me on the way, and as I turned I found Crawford offering me what should have been his own glass of scotch.  I nodded my thanks as I took the glass, but he wasn't looking at me anymore.

/It seems that Nagi and Shinzui have been introduced once before./  He nodded to the doorway.

Shinzui was smiling down at Nagi.  "Unagi-"

"It's Nagi," Nagi replied, his face and thoughts unreadable. 

"… Nagi," Shinzui nodded.  "It's been so long.  Too long."

/How do you think they're related?/ I asked Crawford, taking in a mouthful of the scotch.

Crawford didn't answer just then, because Shinzui's actions did.  In a second, Shinzui had Nagi pulled in for a hug - which Nagi didn't respond to.  But as Shinzui's fingers stroked his cheek, Nagi melted into him.

The contents of my mouth arced toward the carpet in a noiseless spurt.

I stepped in front of Crawford and winced at the muffled splash.  /I know nothing about that-/

"I have someone," Nagi's voice stated flatly.  

/-Them..../

I turned again to see Nagi pulling Shinzui's hands away from his face.  His eyes were trained in our direction, but focused on nothing.  "Unagi is my past; but I will work for you," Nagi said warmly, though still distant, "If you'll have me."

Shinzui stepped back, as if giving both himself and Nagi room to think.  A glance at Crawford told me he was just as surprised as the CEO seemed to be.  "Does he treat you well?" Shinzui asked, without yet moving.

"Yes," was Nagi's simple answer.  

/What's going on?/ Farf inquired curiously, moving closer to where Crawford and I were.  /How do they know each other?/

A short peek into Shinzui's mind confirmed my guess.  I let myself fall into Crawford's chair, looking into navy blue eyes as Crawford took the glass from my hand and polished off the liquid it held.

/Old client./ I answered Farf.  That silenced him as well.  The general background of Nagi's past was no secret to us.  He had sold his body for years before Estet picked him up.  Circumstances surrounding his former venue were dim, though, and he had refused to tell us any more about it.

"Ah..." I grunted, rubbing my eyes, attempting to rid from my vision the burn of Shinzui's memory.  For a few seconds, all I could see was Nagi, his naked body - too small and young - wrapped in sheets, and his hands, small delicate hands, gripping a wad of currency.

"You're hired."  Shinzui's voice broke through Nagi's request to keep the money on the table.

**tbc**

*          *          *

**_A/N_**_: [06.01.03]  That's ¼ of the fic uploaded, right on schedule, yeah yeah!  There aren't any real plot changes or anything yet, just clean-ups and detail changes.  Next update in the next two weeks (hopefully chapters 5-11) and thanks for reading (and reviewing)!_


	6. 05 : Hybrid Rainbow

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;)

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

5 ~ Hybrid Rainbow

*          *          *

[memory]

"I'm going now, Shinzui-sama.  Are you sure I can take this jacket?"

Shinzui sat at his desk, sorting through a mess of papers in order to organize another, his rolodex acting as his secretary and only friend in the world.  He felt slightly irritated when Nagi's voice interrupted his thoughts, but the feeling thawed as he looked up to see the boy's small form overtaken by the oversized jacket.

"Well, sure!" Shinzui exclaimed, jamming his pen into the rolodex to save his place, "I don't think she'll be coming back for it, and she did give to me as a gift."  Only the latter had been fact, he thought to himself with a smirk.  He motioned for Nagi to come closer.  

"Thank you, Shinzui-sama," said Nagi.  He padded towards Shinzui in his socks, shoes dangling from his fingertips.  "I'll try to keep it clean for when you come next week."

"Next week?  Why do I have to wait so long?" Shinzui asked, gently lifting Nagi into his lap.

Nagi bent his head backwards to look up at Shinzui.  "Remember?  Musashi said he was losing business without me, and Chazuke can't handle his shift since the twins left."

"Oh yes," Shinzui nodded gravely, staring out at the vast mountains of paperwork on his desk.  "Can't wait until then.  Then Musashi'll have his money, you won't have to move around so much, and this business-" he nodded to his papers and rolodex, "-All of this business will be through."

"Sorry I'm so expensive." Nagi said.  He pulled a document closer for inspection.  "I can help you with this--"  Just then the doorbell rang.  "Oh..."

"It's fine, Unagi," Shinzui murmured, kissing Nagi's forehead before helping him to the floor, "Sweet delicacy." After taking the pen and tucking it behind Nagi's ear, he bid a quick farewell: "--Next week!"

[end]

*          *          *

Despite the shock of Shinzui and Nagi's acquaintance, the meeting carried on relatively well.  For most of us.  Shinzui managed only to slip when he took note of Nagi's bloodstained clothes.  Tugging at Nagi's shirt (and generously forgiving him for Ishida's death) and straightening damp, wayward locks of hair, Shinzui commented at how well Nagi had grown.  He then remembered out loud when the boy was only "this tall" and his hair was "that short."

Crawford took this all in with one of his unintelligible grunts.  I'd resorted to chewing at the insides of my cheeks.  Not only did I have to deal with Shinzui's mind, but Farf had tucked my lighter away in some well-protected pocket and refused to let me smoke for at least another twenty-four hours.  I probably could have taken it back as he tapped at Shinzui's desk with a small blade and stared quite hungrily at Shinzui.  But, I knew from experience, it wasn't best to push him when he looked like he was positioning a crosshair with his eyes.

Nagi only blushed at the attention.  I'd been tempted to take everything from a chair to my gun to the iron lock on Nagi's mind, but the way he coolly navigated Shinzui back on track was enough to convince Crawford that the matter was meant to be handled elsewhere.  It was one of the few times I witnessed Crawford taking a cue from anyone.

What I had found in Shinzui's mind, other than his memories, only aggravated the apprehension I entertained.  It was obvious that the businessman felt, with that imperceptible glint in his eye and smug smile, as if he'd retrieved something long lost.

The cafe had not been a planned stop, but, as it was one of Nagi's favored local eateries, Crawford decided just before we'd reached our home that he would try and give Nagi some incentive to reveal any more pertinent secrets.  /Yes-/ he admitted, /-I am spoiling him for information./

Coaxing Nagi with food, unfortunately, was a fruitless endeavor.  The dish set before him, with chopsticks placed neatly across its width, had, ironically, only the pieces of unagi missing from it.  I briefly considered snatching up a piece of fish for myself (every once in a blue moon a craving struck for the bright raw salmon) but Nagi couldn't look more uncomfortable or ill as he sank into his seat, which now shared his dampness.  His arms were crossed, his eyes pegged on some object outside, and there was a fairly noticeable downturn pulling at his lips.  And, of course, that's when Crawford simply _had_ to open his mouth.

"Nagi," Crawford started forcefully.  "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Itakunai," Nagi whispered very curtly to his reflection.

"Why don't you want to?" Farf tried.

"Juuyou ga ar--"

"--It is important!" insisted Crawford.  He paused to lower his voice after eliciting some stares.  "You knew what he would be to us, and that he would recognize you.  If it wasn't important, you wouldn't have hidden--"

"I didn't think it mattered."  Nagi lifted his chin and he turned to stare, undaunted, into Crawford's eyes.  "When would it ever matter that I was paid to make him come?"  When Crawford only blinked, Nagi returned his gaze to the window, looking back up at the sky.

Crawford privately insisted it was a productive conversation.  I shook my head, pondering again Shinzui's thoughts.

[That boy looks as if he hasn't smiled in years.]

Could Shinzui have genuinely cared for Nagi?  Was that even possible?  His previous performance only further supported the theory.

"Pedophile," I muttered louder than necessary, before tapping and blowing into the straw of my pearl tea.  With a little effort, the tapioca ball plunged back into the tan sea.  I looked up to find Crawford staring at me from across the table.  Farf only glanced at me, having shifted his attention to the window, searching for whatever it was that captivated Nagi's vision.  "Shinzui," I added, to assure Crawford that I wasn't calling him that.

/Could you possibly find anything more appalling to say at this point?/  He scowled.

I shrugged.  /Someone had to say something.  I'll come up with more if you really want me to./

/That's quite all right./

Farf knocked the table lightly with his knuckle.  /I don't get what he's looking at./

/It's something in the sky./  I looked to where he sat beside me, before turning back to Crawford.  /I was thinking--/

/--God help us--/

/--Funny…/ I tilted my head.  He motioned for me to continue.  /I'm getting the feeling that Shinzui might have been more than…/

/More than…/  This seemed to peak Crawford's interest.  /More than a client?/  I nodded.  He gave this a moment of thought, running his hand through his hair.  Then he sat up and turned to face Nagi beside him, saying in a softer voice now: "Nagi."

/How would that come about?/ Farf wondered curiously.  /Being more than a client?/

I shrugged.  /Anything's possible./

Nagi's mouth drew open at Crawford's tone, and his eyes slipped from the window to the tabletop.  He still refused to face Crawford, who in turn refused to budge.

"What does he know about you?  The telekinesis?" Farf leaned forward in his seat now, curious.

"… Un."  Nagi pressed his lips together, nodding once.  The chopsticks on his dish began to roll back and forth.

"What do you know about him?"

"… Nai."

Crawford reached out to stop the sticks.  "There isn't anything?"

Nagi bit his lip.  After a few moments of thought, he stood up and announced, "I need to use the restroom."

Crawford stood to give him room, but grabbed his arm before he could move.  "Until we know more, you will not associate with Shinzui or his errands in any way.  This includes Tot."

Nagi's mouth dropped open as he glared up at Crawford.  "That isn't fai—" he started, before belatedly catching himself.  He snapped his mouth closed and inclined his head in apology, his eyes darting nervously across the table.

"We've already nearly lost you.  We won't make the same mistake."

"Un."

Crawford let him go, sliding slowly back into his seat.

"Hey," Farf said, pointing in disbelief at Nagi's retreating back, "Nagi never talks back."

"He's never been that nervous," Crawford noted, looking at me.  "He's never been nervous, period."

"Hm."  I nodded, staring into my tea.  "He's been rather preoccupied.  After all, he did just turn sixteen.  No celebration.  Then this business starts up…"

"Is that all?" Crawford said.

"Is that _all_?" I repeated in astonishment.  "He's legal now!"

"In this country."

"Well, if he actually attended school he could legally drop out.  And if he weren't handcuffed to you, he could go to orgies if he wanted.  You might consider getting him something for it.  He hasn't had the greatest week."

Crawford exhaled slowly.  "You really didn't know about Shinzui beforehand?"

I snorted.  "I didn't know about what they've done until I saw what they've done.  You just be happy with what you're dealing with."

"If he's such a problem," Farf said, "We should get rid of him."

"No," Crawford shook his head, "Not yet.  There's more that needs our attention.  Something else."

"Bad?" I asked, standing up.

"Very possible," Crawford nodded.

"Wonderful," I rolled my eyes as I walked over to the window and bent down to Nagi's eye level.  "I guess I'll see what I can dig out of him-- Huh… Well, I guess it figures."

"So what was he looking at?"

I shrugged as I retreated.  "Rainbow."

**tbc**

*          *          *


	7. 06 : the Bends

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;)

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

6 ~ the Bends

*          *          *

  
  


"I finally cracked my wallet open yesterday and purchased an auto.  Do you have any idea what it cost me?"

I took a moment to frown significantly into my mobile's numbered face before replacing it at my ear.  The ringtone had pulled me from my current mission and into a conversation with someone my mind worked quickly to remember.  Someone, whose digitized and static-accompanied voice polished at old childhood memories.

I turned from where I was standing outside the restroom and paced down a hallway scented with fresh peach blossoms.  "Adler?"  The confused look on my face must have been priceless.

"Delphi, the name is Delphi.  Really!  I call you Schuldich all the time; it's only fair you indulge me the same…" my caller grunted into the line, acknowledging what sort of idiot his younger cousin could be.  "You weren't expecting me?"

"Del, we haven't communicated since before my team and I nearly died taking out the executive branch."

"… Oh yeah," he spoke slowly, as if he were just remembering an item on his shopping list.  "How'd that go?"

"We lived."  The question had been asked out of courtesy; Del knew more about the incident from other Estetians than he did from me.  It could be an embarrassing story to tell, a failure, really, if you looked at the right details - but no one ever asked for those details.  We survived, and they didn't.  That was enough for anyone in high enough positions.  "You could have given us some sort of warning."

"Well-" he stumbled hurriedly over his words now, "-Family rank and the organization, you know, I can't really take sides.  And I'm not the only clairvoyant in the world.  Anyhow, guess the price!"

"Hm."  I leaned on the wall at my right.  "Why?"

"Because it makes for conversation surrounding my real purpose for calling and things will be awkward unless you do!"

It suddenly dawned on me what he might be getting at.  Spring had barely peeked out into the year.  Renewal was in repeat, as was a dark anniversary for my family.  "Sorry, but I am occupied at the moment.  I'll call later."  I made my way back to Nagi, "We can talk--"

"Talk, nothing," Del's awkwardness fell flat.  Suddenly every word was a mechanical part of a plan.  "You're listening.  You're going to go this year—"

"—I'm really not in the mood--"

"—I'm serious here!  No one else will call you anymore, they won't even try!  You can't ignore your family forever--"  

I turned the phone off just as I shoved at the restroom door.

"Is something wrong?"  Nagi's wide eyes stared at me.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I shot back.

Nagi proceeded with caution.  "Is he angry?  Did he really mean what he said?"

"Well he hasn't scheduled any coups this week, so he can't be too angry-" Nagi's lips twitched upward, "-But Crawford did mean it.  For the time being.  There's a trust there that I honestly feel might have been violated."

"Really."  Nagi shook his head.  "There isn't anything else… "

"Nothing at all--?"

"--Schwarz is safe," he stated with a nod.  I let the confirmation ease my qualms and decided to inquire about the more personal details later.

"Did you ever expect this to happen?" Nagi asked.  "It's ironic.  Giving me Crawford's past, then having mine fall into my lap."

"It _is_ ironic..."

"It's terrible," he whispered haltingly.  I watched something painful move across his expression.  "My past was living and breathing without me, and now it's something I barely recognize."

_I can't handle it_, he admitted in his thoughts.  _I don't know how I'll handle it_.

That was the first time I noticed the fear buried deep within Nagi's soul, crushing him from the inside out.

He didn't want to be alone.

"Thanks Schu."  Nagi opened the door and waited for me to leave first.  "This makes me feel better.  I don't know why, but it does."

I turned to him as I stepped out.  "What does?"

"Trusting you."

I had never realized how lonely he was.

I peeked out through a nearby window as I cast my arm around his shoulders.  The rainbow was still there.

*          *          *

The smidge of a conversation I'd had with Delphi plagued my dreams with my own bad memories.  Not even two hours had passed after I'd given in to sleep when I suddenly sat up in bed.  I threw my glare around the room as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, cursing my overactive subconscious.

A cold blanket of wind made me shiver as I stood to close the window.  A shrill voice still echoed in my head and my shoulder throbbed from where a glass shard had stabbed into it.  I didn't remember the dream, but I knew that was the origin of the pain.

I worked my shoulder as I walked to the door, instinctually glancing back to check on Farf before I left the room.  He looked content in his slumber.

After popping into the hallway, I realized with a groan that the room I'd just emerged from was my own, which meant a stairway to trudge through before I would reach the kitchen.  I propped myself onto the banister and leaped to the first floor.  

After picking myself up off the floor and bumping into a wall I could've sworn hadn't existed before that very moment, I was as alert as an owl.  Consciousness seeped in like a good serving of Merlot when I finally pushed into the kitchen.

Crawford was sitting at the kitchen table, a newspaper in one hand and a mug in the other.  He managed a concerned look as he watched me enter.  "Did I wake you?" he said, putting the mug down and folding the paper into itself.

I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand and grumbled, "I wish you had," as I continued stumbling across the room.

"Having trouble with your motor skills again?"

I reached blindly into the fridge and snagged a carton of orange juice.  "Shut up."  He smiled into his mug as he took a sip.  I gulped some juice down, beamed inwardly because it was pulp free, and launched myself into a chair at the table.  "Another dream tonight?" I asked him as he pushed a glass cup at me.  "Is that why you're up?"

"Essentially, yes," he nodded.

"And non-essentially?"  I peered at him.  "I hope you realize you're really starting to look like hell.  I mean- you look like you feel like hell- like… "

He smirked.  "Motor skills?"

"You are just so funny today."  I half-smiled before turning serious.  "What's wrong?  Relations?"

"Something like that," he spoke softly, staring at the newspaper that lay flat on the table.

Apparently, that night Nagi's enthusiasm to make up for his secret cancelled out Crawford's bad mood, so they had resorted to reclining on Crawford's bed.  It was a common thing they'd do, when Crawford wanted to relax.  Nagi held his head to Crawford's chest, as if he were listening to the man's heartbeat, and Crawford would brush his hand through Nagi's hair, occasionally grazing Nagi's ear with his fingers.

But Crawford couldn't find comfort in the action as he wondered how many others had done the same, or worse with Nagi.  How many others had used the boy as a temporary crutch?  

How much more precious could Nagi have been to Shinzui?

Crawford didn't realize that he'd been resting his hand on Nagi's neck until Nagi spoke up, without moving, and asked him: "Is everything all right?"  Nagi's knuckles floated along Crawford's ribs, where he had been tracing patterns up from Crawford's abdomen.  

Crawford breathed heavily, knowing that Nagi could detect his thoughts.  The fact made their relationship easier, when he didn't have to explain himself.  "Reassure me," he commanded softly.

Nagi slipped his fingers down to Crawford's zipper.

"No.-" Crawford touched his wrist, masking his disgust, "-Without using that."

After a moment of thought, Nagi rolled over to lie on his back.  "He was nice to me, more than usual clients," Nagi started, playing with the hem of his boxers.  "And later he bought me things.  Not romantic things; just a jacket if I was cold, or a book if I was bored…"  Now he worked on the edge of his t-shirt.  "He was more than a sugar daddy, if that's what you want to call it.  Part of the job is to listen... We could talk to each other.  

"He made me feel something.  Usually, when you're… you stop feeling; everything is an automatic response…And…"

"And?" Crawford echoed, sitting and rejoining Nagi in bed, still watching him carefully.  

"That's it."  Nagi sat up.  "He was my first crush.  Musashi found out, left me to Estet.  Then you—"

"—I found you," Crawford finished.  He reached up to push Nagi's hair behind his ear.

"Yes."

"And you don't feel—"

"I don't feel anything anymore about my past," Nagi whispered softly, not even blinking against the lie as he looked up into Crawford's eyes.

Crawford leaned forward, letting his lips graze first Nagi's throat, then his jawline, and finally, after gazing into his eyes as the universe paused, captured his lips.  When their faces parted, Nagi blinked and stared into Crawford's gaze with a greater adoration than the man had ever seen before.  Then he whispered, his cheeks suddenly splashed with color: "I'm yours."

"I hate it when people lie to me-" Crawford sipped his coffee again "-You know that."  I nodded.  "He's not saying something."

"He's been very tight-lipped about the entire matter, and it seems that it won't affect us in any way.  What he's told you about Shinzui must be true."

"He hasn't told me anything.  I wasn't awake thinking about it tonight; I had a vision in my dream."

"You're sure?--"

"I know it.  It's not that I don't trust him.  He's intelligent enough to judge circumstance, but something's wrong," Crawford said quietly.  "We're both afraid of the same thing, and he knows it.  But he won't tell me what it is."

I was leaning forward in my seat, staring at him eagerly.  "But it can't be that bad, can it?"  I smiled weakly.  "I mean, have you seen anything about Shinzui?  Or anything like that?.."

He looked guilty.  

"Okay, now your face is doing that weird thing."  He didn't say anything.  "Hey, this is the part where you make me feel better."

"I had that dream tonight.  Right after he told me not to worry about anything.  You know the dream about—"

"—Brad?  The one where he…"

He nodded.  "This time Nagi was in it.  And Nagi died in his place."

**tbc**

*          *          *


	8. 07 : Venture

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;)

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

7 ~ Venture

*          *          *

In the morning we anticipated that Shinzui would assign to us the task of "retrieving" some information from a group of "associates;" accordingly we prepared to fulfill the task the same day.  Nagi expressed some curiosity concerning the assignment, but Crawford kept tight about it (and advised Farf and I to do the same).

Nagi didn't push the matter.  Instead, he said that he needed to return some books and asked if he could go to the library.  Crawford complied, though still wary.

The day had begun with a mere sprinkle; by the time we were loaded in the car it was dreary enough to match Crawford's outlook and my own troubled thoughts.  I diagnosed that the heavens were having plumbing problems when we had almost reached the library.  Then Farf suddenly took hold of my shoulder, gripping it eagerly.

/What is it?/ I asked him, looking up from a mystery novel to watch him gnaw curiously at a small blade with his front teeth.  His hand slipped off as he nodded towards the front seat.  Crawford was driving, and Nagi was sitting patiently in the passenger seat.  Normal enough.  /What?/

/How'd you do it?/

I blinked.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.  /Nagi./

"Oh," I murmured, peering more closely at Nagi, who sat in the same sullen position.  His reflection in the glass opposite his face held the image of a tragic doll, frozen in suffering.  He regarded the drops which clung to the window as his own tears, and stared into the gray fog as if it were his own sorrow to drown in.  /You noticed the angst in his step?/  I smirked.

/--I'm not a moron.  And Crawford isn't either./  He learned toward me.  /So what's kept him from ripping your appendages off?/  

I shrugged.  /He's got other problems./  Farf frowned to my response, so I gave him a snatch of my conversation with Crawford from the early morning before.

[memory]

"Schuldich, I know."

"About…?"

"The emotions," he whispered.  You would have thought the word was illegal in our home, the way we treated it.

Yes, Crawford knew and all of my extremities were still attached to my body.  "You're not angry?" I replied as casually as I could muster.

"I'm amazed that you managed it without extinguishing anyone's sanity," he explained, giving a sardonic smile.

"It'd be difficult to replicate, you know.  Brad's death.  For one thing my father would have to be there."

Crawford nodded, absently pondering.  "And my uncle."

"And…"

"Estet," we said together.

"Otherwise," Crawford continued, "It's down to someone I trust, someone I don't know, and someone I'd die for."

I shook my head.  "I think it's something else.  Maybe seeing the blood on Nagi caused the dream.  If anything, I think it's telling you something about him.  Not his death."

"He's vulnerable now, and his loyalty lies with me.  Even if he's not going to die, _they_ will kill us if they find out about him."

[end]

Farf gave a look of alarm.  /You haven't told him?!/

/Do we ever?/

/Nagi's different./

/We need to figure out what it means first.  And it was a dream, not exactly a vision./

I glanced into the mirror.  Crawford's eyes had grown dark; there was conspiracy in them now as Nagi gathered his books.

The average passerby could misinterpret this demon I saw within him as his capacity for evil.  But this was only his desire to control what he wasn't meant to control.  It was his drive to challenge the God that Farf wanted to hurt, and to protect what was his by natural right.  What was his, and what had been taken from him thrice before.

"Don't forget this," said Crawford, handing Nagi a small black umbrella.  

Nagi, fully broken out of his sullen trance, took the object and regarded Crawford with hope in his eyes.  Crawford hadn't looked at him during the whole ride.

Crawford continued slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers.  "We may be held up by the rain, but we will definitely be here before the library closes.  Don't go anywhere else."

"'Kay," Nagi replied.

"You're sure you won't be hungry or thirsty?"

"I'm fine."

"That coat, it's warm enough?"

"Yeah."

"All right.  Good-bye."

Nagi gave in to disappointment, but still wore good intention when he glanced back to wave at us.  With one last look at Crawford, he mumbled "Ki o tsukete," jumped into the rain, and slammed the door behind him.  The umbrella blossomed above his head and, through the haze, it seemed as if some cloud were leading him to the library's front walk.

I groaned.  "Crawford."

"..."

Impossible man!!  "'_Good-bye_'?!  '_Take care_'?!" I said through my teeth. 

"He means," Farf interjected, having taken the blade from his mouth, "That you can't just try to shut it off.  It definitely ain't going to work like that."

This made Crawford turn in his seat to look back at Farf.  He blinked in amazement, then looked to me.

I shrugged helplessly, supporting the fact.  "The man speaks the truth."

Crawford turned back in his seat, shaking his head and muttering something akin to "Love advice.  These two..."  But it worked.  He opened the door and leaped out, calling to Nagi.

"So... how _did_ you manage it?  The both of them?" Farf said suspiciously.

"It was all them.  I just nudged them in the right direction... Sort of."

"Towards each other?" Farf asked in disbelief.  "And you're sure there isn't something wrong with you too?"

"Of course not." I smiled mysteriously.  "They've always been like that."  I nodded to where the pair stood.

Nagi'd been walking slowly, so he wasn't too far from the vehicle.  He turned around as Crawford approached him, not knowing what to expect.  "Did I forget something?"

Farf watched them eagerly and demanded to know: "Like what?!"

-Crawford leaned down beneath the umbrella, and spoke as he gently held Nagi's chin so that their eyes would meet.  "No."  Nagi blinked nervously.  "I…" He fumbled with the words, shook his head, then abruptly crushed his lips against Nagi's.  

Nagi eyes had widened considerably by the time the kiss ended.  He tried to speak, but all that made it through was air as he stared into Crawford's eyes.  

Though Crawford's expression was more urgent than affectionate, there was a smile that lingered behind his mask.  He rubbed his palm against Nagi's neck, and whispered "Take care," before turning away.-

/In love./  Plain as light, when the sun's out.

"In public.  Crawford," Farf stuttered.  "The whole world's gone mad.  How..?"

"Shinzui, simply.  And, that was a mere coincidence."

"He's jealous?"

"Totally."

*          *          *

With Nagi safely tucked away, and a straightforward mission ahead of us, Farf decided during our commute that he wanted to deal with more pressing issues.  

Like my pants.

When my shoulder hit the window, I could only laugh into Farf's mouth.  "You're—"  I gasped as his cold hands reached beneath my boxers "--In a good mood."

"So are you," he growled into my ear.

The car swerved a bit, and I looked up to see Crawford peeking at us in the rear-view mirror.  "You're blocking my view," he grunted.

"Oh--!!!"  I couldn't help moaning as Farf pushed himself harder against me.  This went on for a little while (not long enough), before finally the brakes screeched and I had to brace myself against the passenger seat to keep from flying into it.  Crawford sighed, and looked back at us.

/Problem?/ I raised my eyebrows in question.

He shook his head, nodding to the building across the street.  "We're up."

/I've been up./  I climbed out of the car.  The rain had halted for the moment.

"You can continue inside.-" Crawford stated as I worked at straightening my clothes "-_After_ we've taken care of security."  He gave Farf a pointed look.

Farf nodded.  "Got it."  Then he sauntered across the street.

Crawford stayed with me as I zipped my pants back up.  

Despite the lack of blood in my brain, it didn't take a moron to know why he did.  He didn't say anything, because – of course - he wasn't the type who would if something was bothering him internally.  Anything he couldn't fight with a weapon or fist was so different that he didn't know how to face it.  That's the problem with going too long trying to bury old feelings.

"He _is_ engaged to be married," I said, working at my belt.

"That doesn't mean he's outgrown his fetish for young boys.  You said yourself--"

"--Even Nagi said it doesn't matter."

"If Shinzui looked at me that way, I'd be trying very hard to convince myself the same," Crawford muttered.  I looked up at him as I buttoned my jacket.  I couldn't read his face.  "It's supposed to be coincidence that we were assigned to him?  It's not like they don't have the resources to know what would happen."

"Sure, but what would life be without coincidence?" I replied.

He took a deep breath before answering; "A hell of a lot harder for some people."

**tbc**

*          *          *


	9. 08 : Anon

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;)

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

8 ~ Anon

*          *          *

Security was in rare form as we descended upon our destination.  There was not a puff of air among the strewn bodies; someone else had come to conduct their own business.  Crawford warned us to stay sharp but we found no distractions as we carried out our mission.  

Browsing through the computer files we were to obtain, I could only imagine what seamy trails Shinzui might leave for us to clean up.  The good businessman Shinzui had more than enough connections to completely cover or screw his ass, and many other body parts, should he invoke the action.  A number of faces – and some matching identifying tattoos – indicated a wide variety of yakuza, biker gangs, contract thieves, dirty civil servants, computer hackers, and even—

"Porn stars?!" I couldn't help blurting.  "What the—"

I apused as another window opened on-screen, revealing a photograph of a young man unlike the other yakuza profiles we'd seen.  His frosty blue eyes wore fear, despite the bored smirk on his lips.  There was something familiar about him that I couldn't place.  A glance at Crawford and Farf told me they thought the same.  

But another thought kept fluttering in my mind.  I tapped Crawford's shoulder lightly.  "Could we see the porn stars again?"  That cost me two elbows in the gut.

Crawford put on his "working" glare.  "I'll take care of this," he said as I hunched over in pain.  "We have company."  His tone of voice made me cringe.  

/The feline sort?/

Then the infamous glasses flash as he nodded.

I groaned and straightened up, stroking my weapon for luck.  "The last thing we need is another run of the dramatic with these guys."

"Then we'll end this quickly," Farf stated ominously, giving the machete he brandished a look he sometimes gave to me.

"Keep it light," Crawford called out as we left the room.

And who else would Farf and I find with ease, other than the energetic Bombay clacking away at a computer?  After juggling Shinzui, emotions, emotional problems, and Crawford's ominous dream, the sight of the boy suddenly made me feel very irritated.  Farf looked as though he felt the very same magic.

"We really can't kill him?" he grumbled.

/You heard Crawford./

"Can't we pretend we didn't?"

Farf waited in the hallway as I advanced into the room, treading the edge of the glow illuminating Bombay's work area.  I fought the urge to sneak up on him (we did have a time limit) before simply flicking the lights on.

Bombay gasped as his eyes registered my face.  "Schwarz!" he shouted into his mic.

"Well, aren't _you_ a long way from home?"  I motioned with the gun for him to take the headset off.  

He pulled it off, sputtering: "You're dead!  You—Died!"

  
"So did you," I countered calmly, taking slow steps in his direction.  "Too bad we can't relive that fantasy."  His breath quickened and his eyes cast about, searching for an escape route.  "Nice job with the guards.  Tell me, what are you all tied up in?"

"Our business here is none of yours," he whispered almost threateningly.

I glanced at the computer screen.  The open windows looked very familiar.  "Oh, that I could believe it."

Bombay suddenly flicked his hand outward, nearly scraping my cheek with one of his darts, as I slid out of harm's way.  This gave him the opening he needed to run out-

-And into Farf's territory.  Bombay hit the floor with a cry, remedied by a hand over his mouth.  The boy wriggled in Farf's grasp, fighting the good fight, but he knew he couldn't overpower us both and his muffled shouts died down to whimpers as I advanced, tucking my gun away and picking Farf's machete off the floor.

I held the blade up to the light as Farf hauled Bombay to his feet.  

/Somebody please help me/ he wished desperately.

I frowned at the mental call.  It just always seemed to work.  

Out of nowhere, Siberian jumped at Farf's back, nearly plunging his claws into Bombay as Farf ducked to the floor.  

I barely caught the sound of Balinese's wire and stepped back to let the machete be caught.  It flew out of my hand, and a fist hurtled toward me as Balinese stepped forward.  I pulled to the side and looked across the hallway.  Farf was in the same predicament; Siberian had let loose his aggravated protective nature, and blade and claw contended.

Balinese tried a few more times to land a punch, to no avail.  I caught his wrist after several dodges and wrenched his arm behind his back, muttering into his ear: "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

As Balinese caught his breath, he gave a bitter chuckle.  "Too bad we can't relive that fantasy!"  He hurled himself backwards, crushing me between his back and the wall behind us.  It was a good move, to say the least.  I hadn't made that sound in a long time.  He raised his fist once more.-  

At that moment, I was suddenly glad I hadn't completely given up smoking, though I nearly coughed a lung up, curling over my abused ribs.  

-As soon as he launched the blow, I slid downward, his knuckles pounding into the wall above my head just as I thrust my elbow into his gut.

"Bastard!" he cursed as I straightened up.  There was a satisfying thump as his knees hit the ground.

"Likewise," I grit out as I left him.  

Siberian looked a little worn as he backed away from Farf's menacing smile.  He stole a glance at his fallen teammate and brought his arm up to mop up the sweat on his forehead.  

I smiled casually at him.  Farf had yet to break a sweat.  I wanted to go home and soak in a tub of iced tea.

Then – wouldn't you know it? – a hail of darts came at me, which I barely evaded.  Last straw.  I withdrew my gun from its place, and with the comforting click of the safety off, aimed right for Bombay's forehead as I turned to smirk at him.

My hair was still settling as Siberian's temper flared, but he didn't dare move.

/Aren't you done yet?/ I nagged Crawford.

/Yes,/ came the reply.  Yes.  That's all he gave me.  What was I doing there with Farf, holding hands and walking through a fucking garden?!

Did I mention I hate fighting?  All that useless physical exertion.  I had better ways to work in my cardiovascular workout.

"Finally," I grunted.  "Luck's your bishounen tonight."  I winked at Bombay.  With a quick nod to Farf, we made our exit.  Weiß made no move to stop us.

*          *          *

Some time before we reached the library, the rain picked up again.  Cloudy curtains were drawn in the sky and the moon's appearance would be missed that evening, leaving only the occasional tents of streetlight along the road to illuminate our path.  

But we had no trouble spotting Nagi on the library corner.  He was a lone shadow, gazing up into the raindrops as they fell around him and taking in the sky's darkness as an art critic would scrutinize a painting.  

"What's he doing?" Farf asked.

Crawford answered in his straightforward manner: "He's getting wet."  Nagi was holding the closed umbrella behind his back.  

"He looks happy," I proposed.  When we finally pulled up to the corner, I lowered my window and stuck my head out.  "Hey pretty boy, you look lonely."  Nagi turned around, his face showing a small trace of alarm, but more annoyance.  

"How 'bout a ride?"  I grinned.  He snorted and chucked the umbrella through my window.  "Ah, no more abuse!  I already nearly broke my ribs!"

Farf leaned back with me, pulling his hand through my hair.  We watched as Nagi settled in beside Crawford.

"Weiß was there?" Nagi guessed, looking to Crawford for an answer.

Crawford motioned for Nagi to turn around and put his seatbelt on.  "If you…" Nagi stammered, keeping his gaze down as Crawford began to brush water from his cheek.  The belt buckle clicked.  "If I can help--" Nagi risked looking up, but the man's attention was now on his hair.  Nagi closed his eyes and aimed to try again.

"It's all right," Crawford said, his hand sliding down to rest on Nagi's cheek, where a pink glow was beginning to spread.  "We can handle it."

"I want to—"

"It's fine."  Crawford gazed into Nagi's curious eyes, fighting the vision he'd had of those eyes devoid of life, the faded warmth of the skin beneath his fingers, and the blood, rather than rain, decorating his clothes.

Crawford nearly panicked, holding his breath so as not to alert Nagi. /I still see it./

/It will go away./ I assured him.  /It was just a dream./

"Ok," Nagi relented, unsure of Crawford's attention.  He turned away to watch the rain.

Crawford closed his hand into a fist as he pulled it back.

**tbc**

*          *          *

**_A/N_**_:  A couple of days late and a few chapters shorter than I thought.  Got most of the revisions done though!  Planning/preparing for an anime con is more difficult than I thought, especially with a summer midterm just before and a research project due right after the long weekend trip.  (Anyone going to Fanime?  :DDD  I'll hopefully be the live wannabe Pucca wandering around.)  Anyway, I'll try to squeeze the last revised and the two new story chunks in before I leave on Thursday (at three-freaking-am!), but if that doesn't happen, then definitely within the next two weeks after all this insanity dies down..._


	10. 09 : New

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;)

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

9 ~ New

*          *          *

"You went through Kabuki-cho?"  Nagi didn't look up as he asked this in an especially soft voice, concentrating on the green onions he was chopping.  His mouth curved into a half-smile of both bemusement and bitter nostalgia.

Kabuki-cho, the Kabuki district of Shinjuku – where the pachinko parlor had been - was a throbbing artery of nefarious industry buried to the hilt in the trappings of the underworld.  For Nagi, it was a landmark of his life.  There, he'd been raised, his life had crumbled, and he and his brother had picked up his family's pieces by sacrificing part of themselves.  So, there was no confusion when he impressed several of our past clients with his knowledge of the goings-on of the area, as well as a few well-kept secrets.  But Nagi always had trouble facing the ongoing existence of his past, which had led to night-long sessions with his computer. I wasn't sure how Nagi would deal with it now.

"Yeah."  I glanced at Crawford, who had taken his attention away from his newspaper to watch Nagi with a degree of worry etched on his face.  Farf lifted his eye from the radish he was slicing as Nagi's knife continued hitting the cutting board like a steady heartbeat.  

"Well," Nagi continued when I didn't go on with my story.  "Did you see anything out of the ordinary?"

The bushel of mint in my hand rustled as I breathed relief for all of us and I closed the refrigerator door with my hip.  "You mean, other than Shinzui?" I said, not hiding my annoyance, "No, not really."  Nagi smirked.  "He asked about you."

"What did he say?" Crawford voiced a bad attempt at sounding nonchalant, setting the newspaper down as his interest shifted.

"Basically," I tore the mint leaves into piles as I explained, "Since Nagi's 'not feeling well' and can't see him, he wants to come here."

"He was serious?"

I shrugged.  "Straight face.  Offered to bring chicken broth or miso soup or whatever Nagi wants to feel better."

Farf spoke without looking up from his radish.  "Did you tell him where he could shove it?"

"Actually, I was considering that, but I didn't think it would reflect my work ethic very well."

Crawford's mouth twitched.  "Since when were you concerned with work ethic?" he managed to rib me through his serious face.

"Since when did you _have_ work ethic?" Farf added.

"Since I noticed he likes to tip people.  And we can never have enough pens around the—"

Nagi's knife took hold of our attention then, suddenly clattering against the floor.  A thin ribbon of crimson coated its sharp edge while rivulets launched from it like so many eager fleas.  "Shit," Nagi muttered almost inaudibly, already halfway to the kitchen door.

Crawford looked ready to jump from his seat, tracing Nagi's trail of blood with his eyes.  "What happened?"

"No big," Nagi threw over his shoulder as he pushed through the door with his good hand, "Knife slipped."

Farf and I watched as Crawford went to tend to Nagi, then we threw our produce down and followed.  We reached the bathroom just as Crawford lifted Nagi up onto the edge of the sink.  

"Next time, be more careful," Crawford warned, letting his hands linger on Nagi's waist.  

Nagi made an affirmative sound and stared at his knees.  His grip tightened on the edge of the sink as Crawford's grasp slipped to his towel-wrapped wound.  

"… You don't owe him anything," Crawford added quietly.  Nagi blinked in surprise and lifted his eyes to Crawford's face, which was so close to his own.

"I… would feel better if I could talk to him just once," Nagi stuttered, "A-and Tot, too."

"One time?" the bathroom's acoustics echoed Crawford's sharp tone.  

"Please," Nagi closed his eyes.  His voice neither begged nor asked.  

"We'll see," murmured Crawford.  Nagi's shoulders sagged.  Crawford turned his head so his face was half-buried in Nagi's hair.  "It will get better.  I promise."

*          *          *

[memory]

"…I can't believe this.  How are you going to explain this to your mother?  No—How am _I_ supposed to explain it to your mother?"

Crawford was in fifth grade - with a cut above his fresh black eye and yet another pair of crushed glasses in the pocket of his ruffled navy blue school blazer - when he'd heard that question for what had to be the hundredth time.  He looked up innocently at Brad as they continued their trek to Crawford's apartment building, letting Casey's brother finish his piece.

Brad jammed his hands into his pockets and continued, "I never should have let you come to the gym.  The fighting is a bad influence on you."

"No, it's not!" Crawford piped up defensively.

"Right."  Brad stopped walking and quirked his eyebrow.  "You wanna try that one on me again?  It wasn't as convincing as I hoped."

Sighing, Crawford tugged Brad along.  "It's not a bad influence, Brad."

"You realize I'm counting these things, right?  On a scorecard.  This has got to be your third fight, at _least_ this month."

"It wasn't a _fight_ fight."

"Sure looks like it was to me.  These kids - are they your enemies or your friends, you think?"

"Both," Crawford answered after a thorough second of consideration.

The paradox slipped puzzlement into Brad's expression.  "What?—They can't be both.  If you get into fights and the _fight _fights with them, it's one or the other."

Now it was Crawford's turn to stop walking.  "They're my friends… For now.  Who's to say what'll happen later?"

"Serious?" Brad studied Crawford's face carefully, then shook his head.  "Amazing… I don't know whether you're being smart or cynical.  You've gotta learn to trust people or you'll make a great businessman someday - that is if you don't end up fist-fighting your boss."

"I can be my own boss."  Crawford smiled at Brad's comment, but it was a short-lived joy.  Even without his glasses, he recognized the white Cadillac that puttered patiently in the complex parking lot, the shady driver puffing smoke at the wheel.  "Hey, that's Uncle Van's car…"

"Van?" Brad cocked his head as he processed the name.  Crawford nodded, his smile melted clean off his face.  "Giovanni?!  I thought-" Brad grabbed Crawford's shoulder as he watched the chimney of a man, "-He's still bothering your mother?  Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's been a week, maybe two," Crawford shook his head uncertainly; "He wants to take me to Europe for vacation or something."  Brad dragged him past the parking lot and through the doors of the building, with only his tight grasp on Crawford's arm as evidence of silent, tense concern.

"Brad—"

"—Sh."  Brad motioned for silence as they proceeded through the hallway, where two voices carried through Crawford's open doorway.

"Reece," Van's voice exploded, like the whir of a blender, "He's been having the flashes, and you know it.  Just like his father—"

"—Don't bring Leo into this," Crawford's mother, Caprice, countered sharply, "You betrayed him.  Your own brother!  And now you're asking me to betray my son?"

"These are good people, Reece.  Estet only cares about his well being.  And his future.  You think the boy will survive in life checking the stock market every morning and watching rainbows with that little prick, _Bradley_?"

Brad leaned in to Crawford's ear, keeping his voice low.  "What dreams are they talking about?"

Crawford felt lightheaded.  His guts had turned ice-cold, and he was shaking, a layer of cold sweat sending shivers along his neck.  "I… I don't know, I wake up in the morning and…  No one else knows!  Mom said to keep it a secret…"

"Hey, you all right?"  Brad shook him lightly, looking straight into his eyes.  "—Hey!  Don't worry.  I won't let anything happen to you."

"You promise?"

"I swear," Brad nodded.  "As long as I'm breathing, you and your mom are safe."  Though those words were laced with comfort and sincerity, Crawford couldn't help feeling worse in the pit of his stomach as he heard them.

[end memory]

*          *          *

I was settled in bed during the bright part of the evening, propped up to read my current book, when Nagi poked his head in and asked if we could talk.  I agreed, making room for him on the bed and setting the book aside.

Nagi craned his neck to read the cover as he climbed in next to me.  "You're the one who reads that stuff?"

"I take it you've had a previous experience with this one?"

"I thought that one was particularly crappy.  I never took you for a trashy romance novel reader."

"Whose did you think it was?"

He frowned.  "Good point.  But it's still crap."

"To be a well-rounded reader you must have not only taste, but an open mind."

Nagi quirked his eyebrow.  "Taste?"

Eh…   "… It's the best heterosexual sex I've ever had."

He broke into giggles.  "Yeah right."  

I couldn't help smiling back as he looked up at me.  His giggling struck my ear like a rare wind chime, that charming melody of notes carried through the room; it was a sound more pleasant that I'd imagined and it seemed to ease any unconscious tensions I had at the time.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice asked if it was safe to give Nagi this power, if all that comfort bullshit I always threw at people was really work the risk.  I shot back at the voice to remember it wasn't all bullshit.

Nagi rolled over to his side, with his back to me.  One of his legs was propped oddly over the other, his foot flexing and pointing at the window.  "This is weird," he said finally, the pillow absorbing most of his soft voice.

"What is?"

"The whole… thing.  Ever since my birthday, I've been noticing things.  Like…. I don't know, wood is denser, glass is more fragile.  Now that I have to touch everything, it's-- everything's more tangible, more capable of being broken.   I'm…"

"More human?"

He exhaled, holding his bandaged hand up in the air.  "Yeah.  If that's possible.  Everything hurts more too.  And what I think… What I think about Crawford.  I get these vibes, and I don't know…"

"You know.  The next time you look at Crawford, try not to think about it so much.  Then you'll know."

"He had a chance."  Nagi thumped his toes against the bedpost.  "He had a great mother and Brad was there.  How did Crawford end up like us?"

"The same way we did.  I mean, look at Farf.  He was raised to believe in God, and he still does.  It's just not the sort of faith that leaves people fuzzy inside."

"Brad tried so hard to keep him from Estet," Nagi murmured.  "Is it terrible that I'm glad Crawford joined?"

"Do you think so?"

He didn't answer.  His feet stopped moving and he let his hand fall to the bed.

"You make Crawford glad that he joined," I added.  "He felt something the second he laid eyes on you."

"That could have been anything."

"He still feels it.  He'll do anything for you.  Since you first joined Schwarz, you allowed yourself some trust in Crawford.  Don't let this hinder that trust."

"Schu, I'm in love with a 27-year-old American clairvoyant.  I feel like Cho-Cho-san… Do you remember what happened to her?"

"I don't know, now... I mean, that's opera.  Do you think you could really hit a note that high?"

"Schu!—" he said sharply.

"—Nagi!" I exclaimed in return, "No one could make him leave Japan.  Or you for that matter.  You couldn't mangle this anymore if you beat it with a stick.  And it's going well so far.  So, just let yourself feel.  That's what the emotions are there for."  I stared at the back of his head.

"I didn't-" his faltered, "-I didn't expect to be so scared of everything.  I don't know where this is coming from.  I can't stop thinking about..."

"It happens to the best of us.  What's important is that you trust Crawford.  Do you?"  Suddenly I was looking into Nagi's eyes.  

"Now," he whispered, "Completely."

"Then you should trust yourself, too."

Before he could answer, Crawford opened the door and told us to be in the car in five minutes.

"What's wrong?" Nagi said warily.

Crawford shook his head.  "Nothing's wrong."

"Then where are we going?" I grumbled.  I was just ready to return to my book.

Crawford gave me a Look.  "It's a surprise."

"Surpr-" my eyes widened as I caught his gist, "-Oh, a surprise.  Yes.  Ha, right."  I nodded, and as quickly as he had appeared, Crawford slipped the door shut.

Nagi's left eyebrow twitched as he watched me through squinted eyes.  "What's going on?"

"Fearless leader says-" I took hold of his arm and pulled him from the bed, "-It's a surprise."

*          *          *

The sakura were in full bloom when we reached the park, pink snow tumbled about the car like coins from a defeated slot machine.  Nagi had been the first to notice it; from the first pink blots he glimpsed in the sky he rolled his window down and held his fingers out to catch them.  

A shocked noise escaped his lips when he realized this was our destination.  "I haven't been here in years…"

Crawford eased the car through Nagi's memory.  "Fresh air will make you feel better."

"What?" Nagi grabbed Crawford's sleeve.  "We're here for me?"

"I'm sorry it's late.  I couldn't think of a better birthday present."

"My birthday…" Nagi glanced back at me and shook his head.

/Surprise./ I smiled.

"No way…"  He popped his door open, suppressing the joy that began to bubble within him and the curve of his lips.

"Go ahead," Crawford said, nodding as Nagi looked back at him.

Nagi pushed his door open wider.  "I…"  It was all he could do to lean over and give Crawford's cheek a light kiss.  "Thank you," he breathed.  Then he jumped into the swarm of petals, and ran toward the lake in the center of the park.

"Would someone tell me-" I picked at the petals clinging to my jacket, "-What it is we're supposed to do here?"

"From what I've heard," Crawford popped his own door open and watched Nagi fade into the trees.  "We enjoy the view."

So we did.  Farf and I defaced a few tree trunks with carved names and other epithets as we traipsed along the path Nagi'd left.  Crawford fumbled with the simple card he brought along for the occasion, nearly losing it to the koi fish as we approached the lake.

When we reached the bridge, the edge of the sun had already dipped past our view.  Crawford settled beside Nagi, holding the card out to him.  Nagi took the card and stepped up onto the base of the railing, straining to see as high as he could.

Crawford turned his head, finding Nagi's hair almost at eye-level.  "What's wrong?"

"I used to do this with my father," Nagi explained softly, keeping his eyes on the horizon, "I want to see what you see."

"Oh."  After wrapping his arm around Nagi's waist, Crawford bent to Nagi's level.  The only disruptive sound, as the yolk of the sun made its descent, was the random splash of koi exploring the lake and foliage each new by heart.  The rustle of the wind against the blossoms whispered romantically, and the waves of pink ghosted their way to inevitable death.

When the sun had thoroughly withdrawn into the horizon, Nagi turned to look at Crawford, and realized that Crawford had been staring at him the whole time.  "You missed it," Nagi said.

"I've seen sunsets," Crawford whispered, moving his free hand up to brush Nagi's hair away with his fingers, "But I've never seen your smile."  

Nagi blushed as the arm around his waist pulled him closer and held him snugly.  He leaned forward as Crawford continued staring into him, an invisible force pulling his face closer to Crawford's.  Their lips barely touched as a cloud of sakura surrounded them.

"…I think I'm going to be sick," I muttered, leaning on the other side of the bridge with Farf.  A turtle poked its head out of the water and looked at us.

"I thought you wanted this," Farf muttered back, nudging me with his elbow.

"Yeah, but it's still really mushy."

"You have to admit it's better than any movie we've ever seen."

"Then," I slipped my arm around Farf's shoulders, "In light of all this romance, do you think I could have my lighter back?… Again?"

"Not a chance," he snorted.  

"Pleeease?"

"Get your hand out of my pocket, it's not there!"

"Bitch!"

"Fag."

"... Double fag."

"Lame."

"Double lame!"

*          *          *

That night, when Nagi gave himself to Crawford's procedural, calculated, yet ravenous libido, he found that he could actually feel the bond their bodies shared.  

It began with a chase of lips and tongues in blue moonlight, a flutter of eyelids released with each met mark as Crawford sought to catch Nagi's sweetness for himself.  

They continued kissing as Nagi worked on Crawford's clothes, each admiring the other through the screen of darkness.  When he finished, he looked away shyly and to gather his nerve before they continued.  Then he gently moved forward, teasing Crawford's bottom lip with soft nips as the man worked on his clothes.  

As Crawford advanced over Nagi's willing body, his hands clung to Nagi with what seemed static attraction coursing where their skin met; they were hands that shaped and molded him like an eager boy after winter's new snowfall.

They both pushed themselves, Crawford's concentrated gaze curtained by his hair, Nagi's averted eyes slit with pleasure.  Skin flashed and fingers explored patterns of moonshine.  The mattress lightly squeaked beneath them and sheets were tugged every which way were reminiscent of past nights together – but for some reason felt so different.

Finally, pleasure ripped through Nagi and made it's way to Crawford, sending the final roaring fire through his senses and forcing his head back, "-I… Love you," the cry cut through the silence.  Then as quickly as he had come, embers were left in his dizzy system.

Nagi's eyes blurred as Crawford's relieved breath washed over him and he relaxed, imagining that he was subdued by salty ocean waves, warm pleasure washing over his skin and spreading inside him.  Then Crawford pulled away, flipping onto his back beside Nagi.  They lay, gasping and panting in layers of sheen and heat and engulfed in night's ataraxy.  

A thought came to Crawford as he pulled the boy closer in embrace.  "Nagi."

"Yes?" Nagi whispered, looking up at Crawford.

Crawford blinked hesitantly, his face looking more boyish and relaxed without his glasses frames.  The corner of his mouth quirked up as he mumbled: "What do you think I smell like?"

"What?" Nagi sputtered, pushing himself into a sitting position.  Was that a joke?  Had Crawford lost his mind?

"You smell like bubble gum.  I like that," Crawford kept his head on the pillow, continuing in a serious tone, "What do I smell like?"

Nagi bit his lip before answering.  "You smell like money and-" he paused as he gathered his thoughts, "-Crushed tea leaves."

"Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," mumbled Nagi, settling back down against Crawford.  Then as an afterthought for himself, he added: "It was a gift from Tot."

"She has good taste."

"Yeah, sometimes."

"I'll buy more when it runs out."

Crawford felt Nagi's smile against his skin.  "Ok."

It was the first time they had something to talk about in bed.  It was also the first time they realized that the connection they had in the bedroom could survive outside the parameters of the bed.

With a small knot of fear and the jelly of relief settling in his chest, Nagi realized the very desire that made men kneel before him in his childhood, had finally knocked him to his own knees.  And it hurt him, making his lungs swell and his heart skip beats as he kept his breath steady.

"Crawford?" Nagi whispered.  He spoke directly to the heart he heard beating in his lover's chest, trying to ignore the small tears that formed at the corners of his eyes.

_I can't believe this is real_, his brain whispered to his own heart.

"Hm?" the acknowledgement rumbled through Crawford's chest.

"Boku wa anata o ai—" Nagi mumbled, trying to force the words out.  

"--Ai…"

"What is it?" Crawford ran a comforting hand through Nagi's hair.

Nagi took a deep breath, frustrated with himself.  If Crawford could kiss me in public, he thought, then I can do this.  So he cast away his inhibitions and went for the gold.

"… I love you too."

**tbc**

*          *          *


	11. 10 : South

*          *          *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out.  Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, spoilers, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza.  Squick factor is probably obvious here.  ;) 

**Post-it**: As always, thanks for your time.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like  
  


**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

10 ~ South

*          *          *

Now, as you can imagine, I'm not a great believer in love-at-first-sight, but there is the existence of irrepressible desire or infatuation.  It's so greatly popular; the thought of it gives me a migraine.  But the minute Crawford managed to glimpse the short (read: positively tiny) quiet Japanese kid when we walked into the room that day was the minute something changed for him.  He felt it, and I knew it - though the very concept was still a shady, disconcerted feeling even I couldn't pinpoint.  Later, I would discover the reason.  With my every iota of cockiness, I managed to wander over to the area around him as Farf and Crawford respectively poked and prodded all the new Estet transfers.    

Nagi, as I would learn he was called from his cute little ID tag, was staring at me full on with those huge eyes.  He was neither afraid nor excited; he wasn't feeling much of anything at all to tell the truth.  He was curious though.  I liked that.  

Crawford's voice popped into my head suddenly, causing me to jump.  /What color are those eyes?  I can barely tell from here./  He was making his way to us, with Farf not too far behind.

I recomposed my air of supremacy and looked down at Nagi.  He quirked an eyebrow back at me, his mouth a calm straight line.

/Blue.  Lots of blue, on the pale side./

"What do you want with me?" Nagi asked, mechanically pushing each word through his lips, "I'm new here and I don't know anything."  Oh that old thing.  I snorted when he said it, that stupid mantra that the 'officials' seem to like drilling into our brains when they think we're worthless.  They only seem to say it to the powerful ones.  But he already knew that - that he was powerful.  I felt a great calmness in him, coinciding with his apathy.  He felt he could handle anything.  His body seemed very thin and fragile, which held some semblance to his psyche, I imagined, beneath its shell.  

"I like your mind," I whispered as I leaned forward threateningly.  "It's something I can play with."  

He continued staring at me.  Memories I couldn't quite focus on flashed in his mind, but he maintained his stance.  Another point for him.

/You haven't scared him yet./  Crawford thought to me, as he sidled up to us.  

/I know.  I like him already./

Crawford's glasses slid down his nose as he looked down to address Nagi.  "How old are you?"   

"Twelve."  His mouth barely moved as he spoke in his low, monotonous voice.  Speaking seemed some great hard task for him.

/Geez, that's about half your life./

/Is he lying?/

/I can't tell.  He's got a pretty strong barrier; I'll need more verbal communication with him before I can peel it away./  

"What's your ability?" Farf asked as he came up behind me.  

"Telekinesis."

"And what do you do with that?" Crawford asked nonchalantly, pushing his frames up.

Nagi blinked up at Crawford, tossing his head a bit to keep the hair out of his eyes as he pushed his shoulders back confidently.  "I break things."  It was then I sensed the tight, constricting force of his vulnerability, vulnerability he'd barely managed to finish his struggle with as a boy.  Had he been normal, he might have been more proud of himself - he might have smiled.

/I like him./ Farf thought to me immediately.  /Are we going to keep him?/

It seemed to be set from the beginning.  He didn't quite "fit in" that well with us, but there was no socializing to do.  We co-existed, and the relationship worked.

Now I'd taken him a step further.

*          *          *

"Hey…  HEY."  

A small hand grabbed my arm, and another lay flat against my ribs, roughly jarring me awake.  "What is it?" I mumbled, cracking my eyes open.  Everything, including the boy at my bed, was slightly blurred.

"Is that German or something?"

"Yeah."  I changed my mental mode to English and blinked a few times, with no effect.  "But you know that… Nagi?"  His outline was familiar, but his voice sounded off, as if broadcasted from some far distance over a phone line.  There was also a tint of uncharted worry.

"… Ok."  He sat on the bed with great effort.  Except he didn't.  Because when he did so, the bed did not shift under his weight.  The blankets did not wrinkle, and there was no sound from the springs.  "What are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?"

"Yes."

"This is my room," I said a little loudly.  What on earth was wrong with my eyes?!

"No it's not," he immediately protested, "It's his room."

"Farf's room?"

"… What are you doing here?  No, even better, what am I doing here?"

"What's going on?  Where's Crawford?"

The room turned cold.  I blinked again, yet nothing would take solid form.  "Who?" Nagi's voice was even farther now, and he was taking the greatest effort to whisper.  "Crawford- Who?"

"Crawford.  Brad.  You know, the man who--"

Nagi jumped to his feet.  "—What is this place?!"

"Calm down!"  I grabbed for him, not knowing what to expect.  My hand clasped onto his shoulder, which shook violently.  It wasn't until this that I noticed we weren't in the room anymore, but a well-furnished room, like an office or a bank.  Everything around me was silent, my own breathing the only noise, though the people in the room had screams in their blurred expressions.

The place smelled like America.

I turned as Nagi ran to grab a smaller boy, who clutched at his head.  "NO!"  The child's horrified cries unlocked the event of the room.  "OH MY GOD!  NO!"

Like a delayed reaction, I heard a crash of glass and several guns went off behind me.  They only passed through me, however, and it was Nagi whose blood filled the air.  He dropped to the floor.

"A dream, then," I mused as I crouched over him.  "Crawford's?... Nagi's?"  

My vision had cleared.  Nagi's blood, his face, and the tears he shed were now very clear.  His eyes were blank.

But still his voice sounded, now from a deep corner of the planet:  

"It isn't supposed to be like this."

*          *          *

The pain of my head against the floor woke me.  "Ow."

Farf walked in, holding his latest block of wood.  "Morning," he said, in a rather chipper mood.  He paused in walking.  "Why are you on the floor?"

I climbed back onto the bed, muttering, "Dodging bullets…"

"What?"

"Dream.  Nightmare.  Something like that."

"Might've been Nagi's."

"Figured that."  I went over to the dresser and shoved my hand into the first drawer.

"Not there," Farf said nonchalantly just as my hand closed over a thin, foreign box.  I pulled it out.  

"Nicotine gum?!" I burst out, not bothering to mask my disgust.  "I told you I can't stand the shit."

"The faster you get _off_ it, the faster you can get rid of it."

"I would say that I hate you, but I've got this policy about lying."

"Yeah, what's that deal?" Farf asked jokingly.  He knew about my paranoia.  Once you get to sense these things in people, you can't help wondering what they sense about you.

I went to the closet and dug a pack of real gum from a jacket.  "Here," I nodded to to his knives, "Hand me one of those."

"What are you trying to do?" he asked warily, handing me a small blade.

I held up a piece of the nicotine gum and a piece of the normal gum.  "See these?"  He nodded.  I proceeded to cut the tiniest, visible piece of nicotine gum off, and held it up.  "Hm?"  He nodded again.  I mashed the small bit into the normal piece of gum and popped it into my mouth.  "There.  Magic."

"… You need some serious help," he muttered, rubbing the bump on my head.  "He's holed himself up in the bathroom, Nagi.  Crawford's tryin' to get him out, but he won't budge.  Broke a window too, before he woke."

"Oh."  I felt my face twist as the nicotine portion hit my tongue.  "Awful," I groaned, "Kiss me and make it better."  He did so.

"How's that?  Mm.  Original bubblegum."

*          *          *

Crawford, with his hands against the door and his head slightly bowed, looked like he was trying to ask the bathroom to wear his ring.  

As much as I had a hand in unraveling this part of him, a part of me missed the other part of him that Did Not Care.  Or at least, Did Not Show It (As Much).  It was like that science experiment in grade school when you were told to float a needle on a dishful of water, and to everyone's surprise, it worked.

Crawford's mask was strong enough to handle a certain amount of emotion; this, this was trying to float a penny on that dishful.  I call it emotional chunks.  They shouldn't be allowed to coagulate with your insides.  

At the very least, now was better than later to reveal them.

"Nagi… Please open the door."

I pounced on Crawford's back, flinging my arms around his waist.  "Good morning," I mumbled into his bare shoulder.  My hands found his crotch.  "Guess who."

"It can't be Nagi," Crawford said in a forced calm, "Because he still won't come out of the bathroom."  He pried my fingers off, one by one.

"You sound oddly grumpy for someone who got laid at least twice last night."

"You kept count?"

"Was it more than twice?"  I moved my hands to his zipper.  "Only half-dressed.  You were awake?"  I pulled the zipper down.

"He broke the window.  In his sleep."  He pulled the zipper up.

"And?"  Down.

"He screamed."  Up.

"Doesn't he always, when you're in his room?"  I was about to pull the zipper down when Crawford grabbed my wrist, tightly enough to imply he didn't appreciate my joke.

"He was in pain," Crawford whispered, raising his head and looking for all the world like he was shouting this to me.  "The window broke, and he was in pain, and I thought for two seconds that _they_ got him."  He let me go, and I leaned against the door to face him.

"It was just his dream."

"He dripped blood as he ran out of the room.  It sounded like he was…"  Crawford shook his head, unable to believe it.  "Crying."

"He must have been very frightened."

"He lost control."

"It's not like he can control his dreams.  What do you expect from him?"

Crawford stared at me over my growing bubble.  "… Bring him back."

/From the dream?/

"Bring him back," Crawford nodded his head, guiding my thoughts back to the right track, "To the way he was."

Oh.  My bubble popped.

He frowned as I grimaced.  "What's the problem?"

"I can't."  If I ever felt shorter than Crawford, this was a moment when I truly noticed it.

"What do you mean-" his voice was regaining power "-You can't?"

"Didn't you learn anything at Rosenkreuz?  Or from my uncle?" I retorted indignantly, though I still sounded quite small.  "I can control a thought.  If someone thought it was wrong to kill someone, then I could tell them that it was right and they would do it.  But somewhere inside of them, would still be a conscience, something that distinguished between wrong and right."

"But if you managed to give him these emotions," Crawford reasoned, "They can be taken away."

"I never took you to be so dense before."

"What else don't I know here?"

"Nagi's human too, you know.  He just needed to remember it."

"Oh my god."  Crawford stared at me again.  "… You've given our telekinetic a conscience."

The door opened wide.  Nagi was sitting in the far corner of the bathroom, against the shower, white gauze and towels and tissues strewn about, stained with his distress.  "Crawford," whispered Nagi.

Crawford, stepping into the nearest pile of gauze, had returned to his projected calm.  "Yes?"

Nagi held up his hand like a child afraid that he'd broken something he shouldn't have.  "I can't stop the bleeding."

*          *          *

/Emotions are one thing.  He can learn to work with the emotions./  Crawford worked feverishly on Nagi's hand, hoping not to reveal his numerous concerns.  / A conscience is completely beyond our boundaries.  Even yours./

/You didn't seem to mind last night./

"Schuldich!!" Crawford exploded, "Would you stop joking for **one second** and listen to me?"  

At the outburst, Nagi backed up against the wall, pulling his hand away.  "What are you talking about?" he asked with caution.  His gaze flipped between us.

"It's nothing."

"I don't believe you."  Nagi immediately regretted saying it, but he didn't regret wanting to know.

I turned to Crawford.  "Should you tell him, or should I?"

"In all the time I've known you," Crawford spoke softly as he took Nagi's hand back into his, "You've never been afraid."

Nagi closed his eyes, hoping to erase the dream.  "I've never shown it."

"Your life is in danger now."

"Don't say that!" I burst out, "Why do you have to be so negative?"

"If the organization knew," Crawford continued stiffly, "We would have enough trouble trying to prove that Nagi's feelings would not turn against them on my account.  But now, if they decide he can't work for them or us, with or without emotions, the strength of his power will make him an enemy."

Nagi's eyes were still closed when he spoke, through uneven breaths.  "But they don't know."

"Not yet."

"Shinzui does," Nagi murmured, slipping back down to the floor.

Crawford watched him struggle with his, before letting go of his hand.  "What did you dream about?"

"I died."

Crawford stopped in the doorway, no more comforted by this than by my faint smile.

**tbc**

*          *          *


	12. 11 : Undertow

**_Notice_**: The fic's changed a bit in the revisions, the largest change being that the Chapter Formerly Known as Tenth is now Chapter Nine, with a shiny new Chapter Ten in its place. (The Old Chapter Nine wasn't being shiny at all, so it was recycle binned.) Rest of the fic'll make more sense if the changes are read before the current chapter in your browser. Thanks much. Enjoy the show. And no author-killing. That's not nice.

* * *

**Disclaime**r: I don't own Schu and his friends; that's for Tsuchiya-sensei and Koyappi/Project Weiß/TV Tokyo to work out. Or not.

**Warning**: This fic in its entirety involves explicitly implicit yaoi (shounen ai) in conjunction with character death, feelings, nonconsensual sex, original characters, shota, soap operatic/supernatural-type twists, unpardoned French, Weiß, and yakuza. Squick factor is probably obvious here. ;) 

**Post-it**: Everyone who manages to put up with my writing: THANK YOU.  This includes Yanagi-sen, Patti, and Cayra at various points of... this year?  I think.  I am drunk on BEING SLEEPY.  Yes.  Ignore me now.  Go.  Shoo.

  
/…/ = communicative thoughts and the like  
[…] = memories, stuff remembered, and the like

**_Painting You Gold_**

By Koyuki Aode

11 ~ Undertow

* * *

"It wasn't me," Nagi insisted to himself, "It wasn't me who died." We had relocated to the back yard (well, the patch of grass and area enough for several pieces of furniture that we referred to as a yard) for breakfast. He sat back in his lawn chair, tilting it on two legs as he closed his eyes to the sun and chewed on some mochi.

"It looked like you," I said, between sips of my juice, "Even sounded like you."

He opened his eyes to me, looking slightly violated. "You saw my dream?!"

I shrugged. "Part of it."

Nagi held his hand out and rubbed his fingers together, watching the mochi flour fall like snow to the ground. "Is that how he died?" he asked cautiously, as if Crawford might hear him, "The real Brad?"

"Something like that. Don't know about the bedroom thing, though."

"What bedroom thing?" He frowned.

"Nothing," I dismissed the question. It must've been my own dream.

Nagi changed the subject for me, saying suddenly: "What's Crawford's real name?"

I paused to think about it. As confident as I was, I had never come upon it. "That's something even Crawford doesn't know." The only hint any of us had was Brad referring to Crawford's mother as "Mrs. V."

"He doesn't remember his real name?"

"He was a completely different person then," I explained. "And he's pretty much bastardized his childhood hero's name. He sleeps easier thinking that this is who he is. Nagi-" I scooted forward in my seat, preparing to ask my own question, "-Do you regret any of this?"

"It was a pretty bad dream," he replied, after a moment of deliberation.

"I mean the way you are now. What I. WhatIdidtoyou," I squeezed out. I stroked his hair, feeling quite displaced by the apology I felt coming on. I only managed a soft "…I highly doubt you'll die."

"It's ok," Nagi whispered, shrugging it off. "I was suicidal anyway."

"What?!"

Nagi's chair crashed back down to all four legs. "It wasn't one of those selfish things. I mean, really, I didn't care. No one else cared. It was such a waste, you know? It seemed stupid to have no direction in life, being just Estet's puppet. Who would've cried if I was dead? Who would've missed me? I'd be doing the world a favor, if I died, because I wouldn't be employed to destroy it. We're living on borrowed time anyway, being criminals and all." He thought about his next statement, his eyes running along the patch of grass. "There wouldn't have been regrets."

"I have wonderful timing, don't I?"

"There are a few people I'd miss if I died," Nagi unsteadily admitted, "And that is how I would rather die." He let himself smile, a brief flash of the soft curve of his lips and his thinned eyes, more radiant than I'd ever seen him. Then it was gone.

"--Hey, don't do that," I commanded softly.

"What?"

"Why don't you keep the smile? It looks good on you."

"A picture will last longer," he began to say, but was interrupted by the telephone. He held onto my shoulder as I moved to get up. "I'll get it."

"Oh good," I said as the phone jumped into his hand, "This was a morbid conversation anyway."

It was Tot on the line, which was enough to turn my juice sour. 

But, this was a business call and being unable to directly speak with Shinzui was the least of our problems, I learned, as the vague smile on Nagi's face quickly turned downward. His expression had phased into a very sort of specific fear, unidentifiable by me, but still very weighted and uncertain all the same. 

As the distress in Nagi's voice grew more apparent, his breathing had stopped completely. I sat in so much suspense, watching as all the color drained from his face. "It's… Shinzui's fiancée," Nagi said shakily, "Maaya Torikata. She's dead…"

* * *

When we alerted him, Crawford took the situation in with a skeptical silence. He wasn't fully convinced that Shinzui's so-called "loss" was as much of an emotional chasm as Tot had put on.

Nagi, having once been "close" to Shinzui (and having actually met and enjoyed the company of the deceased), voiced condolences for us when we found ourselves in the strange office building once more. I tuned most of it out, letting my attention catch on a piece of drifting lint. Time-consuming, that drifting lint. 

"Ahem." Nagi made a slight gesture with his hand to us when we didn't bow with him.

/What, you're finished already?/ I made a subtle attempt at refreshing my not-bored expression.

/He could be watching./

We all gave a synchronized nod, as sincerely as we could. I didn't see why it mattered; Shinzui was turned away from us in his chair, facing the window, and his left hand's current best friend – a half-filled liquor glass – seemed to have procreated a line of offspring on the desk. But as Nagi implied, for all I knew, the bitter gaze I saw reflected in the glass pane could've been fixed on my reflection for the past ten minutes of formality.

Naturally, it took all my willpower to not stick my tongue out.

"It's all right," came Shinzui's weak reply.

"Do the police have any leads?" Crawford inquired.

"They have one," Shinzui said, suddenly sounding as bitter as he looked. "Barely spring now. I'm sure I will see snow before they catch the murderer. I've seen homeless men in the train stations - reading newspapers! - who are more intelligent." He swiveled around in his chair suddenly, and threw several drawers open in search of something. When he didn't find it, he buzzed Tot on his intercom and grunted something about pills. Tot said she'd get right on it. Shinzui grunted, sipped his glass, set it down next to the others, and swiveled back to the window.

Crawford looked like he had an awful itch he wanted to scratch. "Is there anything you'd like us to do?"

"Tell me-" Shinzui huffed, his syllables crashing into each other, "-Who would get through eight bodyguards - and their top security system - just to stab a woman and not rob her."

We all shared a mix of looks as Tot rushed in with the pills and many apologies. She placed the bottle at the edge of Shinzui's desk and left quickly.

"Shinzui-san-" Nagi stepped forward and put his hand over the bottle, "-You shouldn't mix--" Crawford pulled him back immediately.

Shinzui, losing coherence by the second, looked up with an expression so obvious that his garbled "What are you still doing here?" could have gone unsaid.

Crawford pushed his glasses up, maintaining his visible indifference, though Nagi's obvious discomfort at the grip on his arm proved otherwise. "Is there anything we can do before the service?"

"Service?" Shinzui struggled with the bottle.

"Ms. Torikata's wake."

"… Wake?" A wave of pills overcame Shinzui's desk.

Despite the many complaints I could list about being in this line of work, there was always a reason or two that reminded me why I didn't just get it over with and shoot every idiot who devoted himself money and greed. 

I knocked my arm against Crawford's. "Never a dull day at the office..."

Shinzui fell over, smacking his cheek into the desk.

* * *

The wake itself was show and chandelier enough to put any of Takatori's gatherings to shame. Though the woman's existence had ended with no explanation, the event was a celebration of her life and the fact that her soul had moved on to better things. 

Or something like that.

Before our arrival, Nagi'd attempted to explain it to me, but my novel got too interesting. To my luck, Farf and I didn't have to meet with Shinzui before the party, leaving more time for the book at our backroom posts. I was just rounding the corner of the last chapter when Farf's arm hooked around my neck.

I gave a start – finally - as his fingers sank into my shirt, and looked up to greet him.

"Well." He pressed his wrist pressed against my collarbone. "Have you been standing here all this time?"

"… That sick bastard," was all I could to say.

"That bad?" 

I shoved the book into his free hand. His face pulled into an amused grimace. "Did he actually dip the guy into a vat of wax? That sounds messy."

I couldn't answer. You wouldn't believe how close we came to working with someone who actually liked to do that. A psychological mess waiting to happen. Fortunately, there were lines that even Crawford could not cross.

Farf kept his eye to the page. "Tell me again how you put up with this awful writing."

"I'm expanding my horizons."

"I thought you already covered _crap_ years ago."

"It's a new era. Crap has been redefined. And his mother's a well-established--"

Farf was tugging my shirt back with his teeth. "Keep talking."

I looked down at his hand, which began to inch downward. "… Ever the romantic."

"You don't make those weird sounds unless I interrupt you while you're talking."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A door slammed behind us. "Are you done?" Crawford's voice erupted behind us; "I was so sure we were actually working today."

We parted and turned. I glanced at my watch with the hope that this was our call to leave. It wasn't. "Just a minute short- Or two."

Crawford struggled to look amused. "Just tell me where he is."

"Who?"

"Nagi."

"We-" Farf looked to me as he replied, "-Haven't seen him."

"What did I tell you?" I said, "The bell. It works for cows. It'll work for him. Crawford--" I waved my hand and his tense expression flipped to me. "Your face is doing that thing again."

"You look worried," Farf supplied.

Crawford turned back to the party. "Nagi's not the only one who's missing."

The party's patrons didn't notice Shinzui's absence, and offered no help in finding him. Shinzui's driver, however, was a clogged fountain of information. He had some difficulty giving us what we needed until Crawford threatened to separate him from certain extremities.

So we were led to a secluded hotel room, the driver searching frantically through is pockets for the keycard with Crawford's gun pointed to his crotch. I took a chance and put my ear to the door while we waited.

"-If you bruise me, he'll know." It was Nagi's voice. 

"And what will he do?" Shinzui scoffed. "He works for me-" 

"-I promised him-"

"-He works for me now, just like you. Listen to me!"

Nagi whimpered. His voice laced with pain as he spoke again. "Shinzui …"

"You have to leave them."

"Please don't involve them."

"Are you scared of them? Or is it that they _would_ let you go?"

"I'll protect Schwarz until I die. "

"Perhaps you aren't satisfied?" Shinzui continued musing. "Whatever problem you have, Unagi, ignoring it isn't going to make it go away. Do you have any idea what your brother risked for you? If a conflict arises between your… organization and—"

"My brother's business risks were his problems." Nagi stated. "Just as Torikata-san's problems belonged to her."

"I'm relieved your brother wasn't present to hear you say that." A brief silence followed, cut off by a cry audible beyond the walls. "If you've forgotten, your loyalty is engraved on your body--"

Just then, the door popped open and Crawford rushed past me.

"Craw--oof!" Nagi was pitched onto the floor at my feet as Crawford hauled Shinzui to his feet. Nagi's hand flew over his shirt as if it'd been open; he panted in relief when he knew he looked presentable.

Farf knelt next to him. "You all right?"

Nagi nodded, his expression betraying his horror. "Crawford!"

"I don't care who you are," Crawford growled as he threw Shinzui against the wall, "You're not touching him again!"

"Crawford, don't!" Nagi jumped to his feet, hanging onto Crawford's withdrawn fist with all his might. "Don't…"

Shinzui cracked a smile.

* * *

Crawford's face had turned a light shade of red by the time our feet hit the parking lot pavement. "Why are you defending him?!" 

"It's part of our job!"

"That is the _one_ service we provide. And it doesn't entail letting Shinzui touch you!"

"I wasn't—He wasn't touching me! It's his fiancee's wake, he's a little distraught right now."

"I'm sure with his connections he could have found another way to ease his pain, that is, if he isn't busy paying off his fiancee's killer."

"Why are accusing him of being the biggest criminal in Tokyo?"

"Why are you acting like he's not? You know very well he could be.—"

"—He's still a man with feelings!—"

"—That is not your responsibility!"

"He needs someone!!—"

"You're not his whore anymore!" Crawford froze when he realized the effect of his choice of words. We all did. A dull pain began to throb between my eyes.

"… His _whore_ ?" Nagi repeated. The expression on his face was halfway between betrayal and denial. 

The label, misplaced in Crawford's frustration, was like a papercut to Nagi's fresh emotions. It was small, barely noticeable, but it got through deep enough to break his thin pale skin, deep enough to slice a nerve ending and to draw blood. Nagi shook his head, hoping the echo in his mind could be dispersed.

"… That's what you think of me?" Nagi continued faintly, his eyes closed.

"You know I didn't mean it that way. You have to understand--"

"No, I understand," Nagi whispered. He opened his eyes – they glistened with tears. "That was fair," he nodded slowly, "It's not like it isn't true, right?" When Crawford didn't respond, Nagi turned on his heel. "We should get back to the party."

"What am I supposed to think?!" Crawford stepped forward, grasping his elbow, "I didn't want you to come, to protect your safety. But I couldn't deny that you've had a hard time lately. You are here because you begged me. For _his_ sake."

"Maybe we should go home," Farf suggested, catching Crawford's attention.

Crawford nodded.

"I don't want to go home," Nagi said simply.

"That isn't your decision," Crawford said, grabbing Nagi's wrist and dragging him along.

"Get your hand off of me."

It happened before I could even fathom the thought.

Crawford whirled Nagi around before releasing his arm, and used the very same hand to form a fist that would make a sickening noise as it made direct contact with Nagi's face.

/Oh crap,/ Farf sighed behind me.

I rubbed the back of my neck. My sentiments exactly. "Guys--," I tried to interrupt.

"--Schu, stay out of it!"

"--Schuldich, stay out of it!"

Well, at least they agreed on something.

"Let's get one thing straight," Crawford whispered harshly, still watching Nagi, "You are still part of Schwarz. I can forgive you being too close to this assignment and even your getting emotional - again, but don't forget that I am your leader. What I say goes, do you understand?"

"…"

"Do you understand?!"

"…Yes…" Nagi crossed his arms and his shoulders shook as he struggled to control his breathing. The tell-tale mark on his eye had already begun to form, barely visible through quivering wisps of hair.

Crawford wiped his offending hand along the line of his jacket pocket, as if it were coated in evil. He gave me a look that said, you let me do this? Then he reached out to get a better look at Nagi's eye. "Let's go now."

Nagi huffed. "You think I'll suddenly change my mind because you hit me."

"I don't see why it's so aggravating that I am concerned for your welfare."

"It's aggravating. Because you could fuck me for three and a half years and not give a shit about my life story. But just _now_ it's a three-dimensional reality and just _now_ it bothers you. Your control fixation? It gets in the way." 

"Get in the car."

Nagi turned on his heel. "Even people like you don't get everything they want."

"Nagi," Crawford warned. Nagi didn't stop. "I'm not going to chase you." 

"I never asked for it." His steps slowed as his voice rose shakily. "And I don't beg." His final word snipped at the bond they'd solidified just days before; the link gave in and disappeared as the door slammed closed. 

/What the hell…/ Farf shook his head.

"I think that's what they call a teenager," I muttered, holding my head. "In the wild, they travel in packs." The dull throb in my head had zigzagged its way to behind my ears, about as dull now as one of Farf's knives. 

Why couldn't I just live with normal people?!

"He's decided who he wants to stay with." Crawford turned back to the car. "Are you two coming?"

* * *

"I can't believe this. Not even a week and everything I've done is gone."

"Do you ever consider that you aren't always right?"

"Do _you_ ever consider that you might be wrong?" I retorted. "Tell me, Crawford, what bothers you more: the fact that Nagi allowed himself to be pushed away, or the fact that it's now a possibility."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying that at this point, it's not the competition between your _rising stock_ and Shinzui's that bothers you most. I'm talking about how you yourself made the observation that he had the emotional capacity of a fish. Nagi was safe for you. Not only bound by your rule that none of us can die alone, but also by his apathy. It scares you that he reacts to you now."

Crawford shook his head. "What scares me is how far you managed to take this."

"What, make him functionally human again?"

"What you did to him can't be reversed!"

"And that's a bad thing? You know, maybe it would be less of problem if you weren't such an—" I stopped as Crawford's expression dared me to go on.

'What? What am I?"

"No." I shook my head. "I'm not going to give you a reason. We have enough problems as it is."

"-HEY!" It was then we finally noticed Farf's presence in the room. "Toss a fist now, or end it."

"What is it?" asked Crawford.

Farf puffed his cheeks out, saying nothing as he left, all but dragging us by our curiosities with him to the closed front door. "It's for you," he finally said, nodding to Crawford.

Crawford opened the door slowly. "Yes?"

"Crawford-san," the leading man, wound tighter than a fist flashed his wallet, "I am officer—" The rest of the introduction was muffled as the door slammed in his face.

"The police?!" Crawford nearly shouted.

"That's what I said," Farf replied. They both looked to me.

I sputtered. "Wh- Stop looking at me that way! I haven't done anything noticeably illegal for days!"

A woodpecker-like knock sounded on the door, then a muffled "We know you're there."

Crawford opened the door again. "May I ask what this is about?"

"Crawford-san, we need you to come with us."

"I'd rather not," he began to close the door again.

"If you don't come willingly-" a hand stopped the door, "-We will place you under arrest."

Crawford couldn't hold back his faint laughter. "Excuse me?"

"For the charge of murder, we are placing you under arrest."

"… That's not possible."

"With all due respect, we have witnesses who say a foreigner with a gun was the criminal. Some investigation has pointed to you."

"Who is it that you think I've killed?"

"He was said to frequent with you. Didn't you even know his name?" The officer gazed at Crawford with disgust. "The boy's name was Nagi Naoe."

**owari**

… Just kidding.

**tbc**

* * *

**_A/N_**_: Eesh! Two weeks turned into... a really long time. I have to admit I sort of forgot that this thing was sitting around. E_e;; Sorry about that. If anyone out there still reads this, thank you, and thanks to you who have reviewed in the past few months. I really want to finish this fic this winter, and I do have more parts written already, so hopefully it'll be done soon. But, yeah, thanks to the one (is that optimistic?) person who reads this. It means a lot to me. Really. =D And I swear there's more coming._


	13. Author's Note

Just an author's note, for anyone who might stumble upon this fic or even for someone who might've read it before and decided to check up on it. That last chapter (Chapter the Eleventh, the one with the bad joke) is not where PYG ends. Not by a long shot. I fully intended to finish it after I posted that chapter, but life happened and 2004 was a very bad year for me as a whole. 

I feel the need to say thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed or read this fic. It really helps, you know. I just got a review a few days ago out of the blue, which made me go back and read a few lines here and there and the very nice reviews that were left over the years.

That all got me thinking, and now I'm left with a printout of the whole fic and new scenes stumbling into old plots in my head.

Now, I cannot guarantee that I will produce a new chapter any time soon. I am in no way promising that because I'm just so swamped these days, and I would hate to break that promise. But just know that I have not forgotten PYG. I'm even managing not to cringe too violently as I re-read it. I still always, always think about it whenever I hear the Calling's "Wherever You Will Go," which I've dug up from my collection and am listening to with nostalgia on repeat. (Feel free to laugh at my bad taste in plotting music.)

I also want to offer a very hearty thanks and apologies to my betas. The few that I've had. I'm sorry, I just had a hard time keeping track of things and keeping up with contact and writing. I really am teh suck. But you guys most definitely are not. You all are the reason I managed to get PYG this far, and are the reason I'll be able to continue it now without having to go through and change things again. Thank you so, so much for putting up with me and PYG and please I hope you don't hate me but you're certainly allowed to. So long as I have breath in me, your effort will not go wasted.

Very important: thanks to my friends. You've really kept me alive, and you've actually kept PYG alive in your own ways. The latter is quite evil, really, but it's a good kind of evil.

Suppose that's all I have to say here. I do intend to tweak things here and there, because of course that's what I do and of course I've grown as a writer again (or is it devolved, after so long?). The fact remains that at the end of the day, this fic is just intangible text on a screen and people were kind enough to put time into reading and reviewing and that means a lot to me. So thanks to everyone. Heck, thanks if you managed to read through all my blathering in this note. I hope I post here again soon, and possibly in other archives. (Because Crawford/Nagi can never get too much exposure...)

-Koyuki Aode


End file.
